- Vol. 03
- Chapter 08
WatercolorI think the sky turns orange before black. That's how it is here. I think "here" is the Mississippi. Or maybe it's Kenya. Or maybe New Zealand. It doesn't really matter, does it?
That's where you say "no."
Most people think it's important to know where you live. That's what you're trained to know from when you're a child. Phone numbers and street names. I say fuck that. Push it all from your mind.
You don't need to memorize text books either, so there's no point trying.
The water is blue. It's not really. Brown and green is the color my little purple boat floats on.
The trees are green. But they aren't. They're yellow.
My eyes are purple. Behind the contacts they're grey.
The sky had turned orange. And pink. And red. And everything in between. And then it was black. Or maybe a really, really dark blue.
I've memorized colors instead of mathematical equations and addresses so that I can repaint the greys of the world to my liking.