Thursday, 10 January 2013


Inspired by Jimi Hendrix- Castles Made of Sand.
Faces beg for answers…for a while. It usually happens when they’re glowing every colour of the spectrum: violet, blue, green, yellow, orange, red; sometimes all at once. A child’s face is a prism of antidotes to eye-sores. A prism, like a man-made pyramid coloured by the sun, built by sun-reddened hands, some wrinkled, some as young as children’s hands. Children with fewer colours in their faces.

Questions asked become questions answered. Answers generate more questions, which generate more answers. Time passes. The question of “Who built the pyramids?” is answered. The questions become fewer, until the questioning process doesn’t make sense anymore.

Gradually, the colour stops emanating from faces. The pyramids wear with the winds of time, like faces. Cracks in the pavement are flooded with rain until they open up the Earth. A hand drops the remainder of his nicotine-crutch and watches as it is swallowed by the ground. Houses under siege of roaring waters trample castles made of sand and become marine automobiles.

A mocking bird hears dreams collecting, he reiterates them. Decides they’re his dreams too. He sings so hard his eyes close. He doesn’t see the tempest he is flying into.

The inevitability of dissatisfaction ensues. People rely on the sun, the moon, the rainbow to give colour back to them. And they do, because nature doesn’t disappoint: we do. We self-destruct, we devalue riches. We adorn what requires no adornment. And while a frown can redirect your path up a steep and oxygen-less hill, a smile sends you on a bike downhill, lasts much longer. Hope remains, despite statistics or unlikelihood of hope’s success. Colours return to faces, and as they do, they see the colours of others, projected, through layer upon layer of clouds brimming with tears and form rainbows.

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