You are a Brush Stroke

You are a Brush Stroke

 

In 1950 we were sepia not white like snow on Hemingway’s Kilimanjaro.  We’ve always been you know, sepia.  That is the color of our life in snapshots.  Color belongs in rainbows and painters’ brushes and not in newspapers.  Light bending that’s all it is, where you put your eyes.  How far are you from me?  You don’t know my color because I have none and you have none to me.  We are colorless and that should be the theme of life don’t you think?  It was meant to be as it is and it necessarily should be no other way.