The Brown Mythos
It exists because we need it to.
Brown is not real.
It is one of the first lies we are told.
Earth tone crayons, wet-soil palettes.
We’ve always been coddled by deception.
Brown is an orange that spent too long feeling down.
It is a red-yellow that’s going through an edgy phase.
A light can shine red, orange, yellow, green, and that all-encompassing white.
But it cannot shine brown.
How, then, can I explain myself?
My brown hair, my brown eyes, my brown skin that burrows into the ground, feeling for brown bones, brown roots, and brown dirt.
Am I one more figment? A fragment meant to make sense of a pigment?
Imaginary not primary.
A concept that finds shape on a made-up moniker.
But the sun shines down on my brown face.
It can see me. I can too.
Brown exists because of light and dark.
It exists because we have said it must.
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