monochromatic moments

weaving in and out of bodies down the streets

i find myself hard pressed

not to trip on toes or look someone in the eye.

i find myself staring

at the dirty pavement beneath my gaze.

what is it about greyness that grabs?

as soon as you turn a photo black and white

it’s over.

you’re done for.

from that moment on it will always be just a sad, grey, messy, jumble of shadows waiting to meet your eyes, only to immediately change how you feel about the sunny day outside, or the excitement in the ‘future.’

when you suck the colour out of a photograph

it morphs into a monochromatic message of melancholy.

doubt (verb): a tightening in my chest, similar to a clenched fist promising a punch but unable to make the swing.

“you need to take time to figure out what it is that you WANT,” i said to someone

and then found myself

wanting and

wanting all the time

with everything i wanted in constant dissonance.

i want to look at the grey pictures and

the coloured ones.

i want to make, bake, have and eat the fucking cake, please.

the purple tulips bring me back to life.

eliot wrote that april is the cruelest month but i don’t think he was totally right because even though the earth is no longer frozen and we can bury the dead who passed in winter, spring somehow resurrects the living, the present.

people come out of their houses

and sit on patios

and kids play with chalk

and tomatoes taste like tomatoes

and people take pictures because their hands won’t be cold and some of those photos are bound to be in black and white even if only for coolmodernsleek aesthetic purposes but they will get you.

sometimes.