Thursday, 19 July 2018

Red | Colour

     It's anger and rage and fury. It's passion and heat and flames. It's violent and visceral and raw.

Close up of red rose
(source)

     It's the shiny skin of an apple, sitting at the forefront of the teacher's desk. It's the bright plumage of a parrot, flitting its way from tree to tree across the sky. It's a child's mouth and sticky fingers, messily painted in tomato sauce.  It's berries standing out boldly amongst the dark, spiky leaves of the holly bush. It's a wild mass of curly hair, blowing out in the breeze. It's shoulders and noses burned under the heat of the summer sun. It's a lone balloon, drifting away into the clear, bright sky.

     It's ketchup dribbling down hot dogs and burgers in their buns. It's cheery phone and post boxes, standing firm and proud in the streets. It's a double decker bus rolling its way through London, tourists snapping photos as it goes. It's a jolly old man, giving away gifts to good boys and girls, bringing joy to the cold of winter. It's a traditional Chinese dress, worn as the bride pours tea for her in-laws. It's an ornately decorated envelope, holding a monetary gift to celebrate the Lunar New Year. It's warning signs and lights, telling you to stop and to heed the danger.

     It's blood pouring from a fresh cut, that precious liquid running away, down the surface of the skin. It's the heart pumping that same life-giving substance around every extremity of the body. It's a face flushed with the heat of the blood rushing to the cheeks, whether in fury or shame. It's a slab of raw meat, juices oozing from every pore. It's the angry skin of the Devil, dancing his way through the fires of Hell. It's better judgement clouded in a haze of fury and hatred. It's senseless violence, fuelled by anger, and only resulting in pain.

     It's a punnet of strawberries, sweet and juicy, glistening in the sunshine. It's a rose in full bloom, petals rich in colour, being handed to a lover.  It's a tempestuous woman clad in a sultry dress, seductively flirting her way around the room. It's a pair of rosy painted lips, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. It's the burning heat of the fire, the flames crackling and roaring with passion. It's a stolen night, a secret tryst, a moment where desire was allowed to take over. It's a soul pulsing with raw emotions, dancing the line between love and lust.

     It's wrath, violence, and danger. It's lust, desire, and heat.


For more of the Colour series, click here.

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