Tuesday, April 06, 2010
A blank sheet fills our time on the morning of each day and we endeavor to fill this blank page. We try so hard to fill every little white space with various colors and drawings, and if we don't fill every inch of it, we try harder and we paint on that sheet till all that's on it overlaps. All that was once clear is now painted over for the sake of filling out the blank.
But then when we're done filling every inch with every color we can conceive of, we realize that we've completely covered the blankness of the page. Our black so close to our red, our green so close to our blue. Everything is next to one another, distorting the other, taking the place of another. It's as though everything we've filled wants to choke one another.
All colors can be retrieved, the black painted over with red, the blue painted over with green, but the blankness once painted over cannot be retrieved.