it's a joke nobody knows

This morning, my grandparents and I took a drive out to get some things. We picked up ingredients for dinner and a new pair of jeans for me, and then we drove back. (We're in Long Island, you see.) On the way back, I stuck my head out the window and let the wind pick up my hair and blow it backwards. All I heard was the rustling of the plastic bag beside me, the breeze blowing by my ears, and the murmur of my grandparents in the front seat. We passed by field after field, one with romping horses, the next with little buds of green poking through the dirt. We stopped at a little stand by the side of the road and I stepped out, barefoot, and carried beets and carrots, fresh from the ground, back into the car with me. As we flew down the road, a car going in the opposite direction passed through a puddle and it leaped up one side and over the other, a giant wave for an instant. As we passed by it, it was still bubbling and foaming from it's momentary action. Everything was so simple, and I thought it was so lovely as well. And then we got back to the house.

I am surrounded by green. Green trees, green bushes, green hedges, green grass. Green is the color of growth. It pairs with love. When someone is loved, or when they are in love, I could just imagine their heart sprouting little green buds, which bloom and let loose little seed pods of love, which float about and perhaps fall on someone else's heart, and the flower of love grows there too. And it goes on, in a cycle. So green can also be the color of love. I don't really know why people are always choosing pink and red, because if they're trying to be literal, as in the color of blood, then why are they drawing these strange upside-down teardrops sandwiched together? That's what I want to know. Green is a much better color.



Title Quote: Lenka, The Show