There’s a strength.
Somewhere that we can draw on. You can lose that, and gone. Who keeps it and more importantly who uses it? Wise men can say “find it in yourself” as if it was a pantry. Behind the sugar.
Not everybody has to draw it. Some lives are easy, charmed and can say flippantly that “life’s not that hard,” when you know there are men, women and children dying in the streets.
It’s getting that bad. I’ve felt deeply about social issues all my life. Variety is the spice of life. Expecting literally every human to be either A or B and nothing else is absurd.
Black? My stove is black. It’s almost impossible to make black frosting. Black reflects heat, as anyone in L.A. know: called Santa Ana winds. All because asphalt is black.
Everybody is a subtle shade of brown. I was Irish white, as George Carlin said “we glow at the beach.” Now I’ve got a decent tan and seeing my dad at his age.
Red? Red’s a hard color to paint and paint over.