i have a fascination

with mixing colors (+ textures)

even (especially) those that don’t go
not just in clothing, but in everything.
yet, i could wear white* every day.

it is so fresh + pure

fresh \ ˈfresh \ 1a: having its original qualities unimpaired  |  pure \ ˈpyu̇r \ 3a (1): free from what vitiates <taints>, weakens, or pollutes. 3a (2): containing nothing that does not properly belong

Pure is a thing with me, not that I am but that I want to be — in an ethereal way. Abstractedly so. Maybe I am, but I don’t feel it. Feel? Feeling and being are two different things: one is an emotion, the other a fact. One is triggered, the other is not. Interesting. This morning, I read the CS Lewis snippet where he argues that the battle is between faith + reason and emotion + imagination. And I so agree.

how did I get here from color?

or better asked: why?


i am on a path to being done with asking

so i can just be.

it is so much better


* in some cultures, white is the color of mourning =|