The whole world is placed on the tips of your fingers; the knowledge, access, and change you can bring through a simple site online.
But this can backfire, sending messages of hate instead of love, the negativity spreading through the networks like fire, imprinting the ideas of war and racism on those who stumble upon it.
This color is used in simple things.
It's what hangs about our heads every hour of daylight.
It pops out, in a vivid stroke, against the fiery red and orange during a sunset.
The bright petals that clash against the deep brown of a sunflower.
What the neighbors would murmur as "quite ugly" as a house's walls were splashed in this loud color on a house's walls.
It comes from your standard Post-It to the boomerang shaped fruit called a banana.
It symbolizes wealth, in a solid and geometrical form.
This is the cheeriest of the colors. But it can also be quite the opposite.
It could also be the reason why you received all those comments from your childhood. The reason for being who you are, for being this color from the tips of your fingers and down to your toes.
This color was, along with many others, a victim to the negative light the world of different colors has put...
Have you ever seen him before?
The Raggedy Man?
There's short, disoriented man, who is covered in rags he picked up from the street, surrounding him with their dampened colors and defining the hunch of his back. His gray woolen sweater, thinning from its age, was starting to unravel. His wrinkled brown palms were barely wrapped with wool and his fingers stuck out, shivering as they felt the cold winter air. A washed out red beanie sagged on his head, patting down the lightning white frizz and bobbing as he walks down the street.
Have you seen the way he walks?
His baggy jeans are always scuffing the frozen sidewalk. Even through the gray air and dim lights, you can spot his limp.
There, don't you see it?
Right there, just below his right leg's knee, you can see his foot drag a bit, leaving a ghost of a trace in the snow. Just a second slower than the...
We can say passion, hope, desire, courage but it's all love, the language that conquers all, no matter the gender, age, sex, or any identification, we, the human race, can all feel and understand it.
I write to begin a meaning for myself, to make some sort of worth to this being.
Writing is the stage where I dream to be able to perform day by day without the stress and with the passion.
However, not all stages function as fluid as they are hoped to be.
Most days, I don't even rehearse. The lights hang low, as the curtains droop to the stage. All human activity has quieted into nothing else than silence.
I peek through the dusty window into the theater, and I see no audience, no energy, no life nor joy. Although the damp atmosphere is heavy, there are days where a glimmer of passion and hope appears.
Just one, or two, rays of light shining through a skylight above, setting a natural spotlight up on stage.
It beckons me, whispering in the back of my head, to come and join it. Pushing through the rusted doors and feel the...
As humans we are feared,
but as animals, we feel fear.
Those from our creation or those from our experience.
But there are those
from our ancestors,
except they don't work
with the world we live in now.
They only function
from the one that we came.
This world is a place
where all else roams free
as we are bound by the chains
to escape this devastation,
it's only natural
to return to our nature,
to feel the hum of life
and the peace of it.
How were we made?
From star dust to all-knowing being.
Yet, cosmos appear
in the sky
and in our eyes.