In its deepness, warmth and happy moments. In its turmoil,
and sadness, and scars, and irony. Water which we love and cherish, daring to
walk on it in our faiths, our trust in our beloved ones. Water in which we sink and forget
how to swim. Water which swallows us in a few seconds, in which we search for
that thing to grasp. For a meaning. In its waves. The two sides of the coin from our lives,
from my life, water as peace and water as death, water as stability and water with
its insanity, silence and noise.
“Envy's
color is the color of her pleasuring, and what is the color of grief? Is it
black as they say? And anger always red? The color of that sad shade of ennui
called blue is blue but blue unlike the sky or sea, a bitter blue, rue-tinged,
discolored at the edges. The color of a blind man's noon is white, and is his
nighttime too? And does he feel it with his skin like a fish? Does he have blues,
are they bridal and serene, or yellows, sunlike or urinous, does he remember? Neural
colors like the fleeting tones of dreams. The color of this life is water.”
(Cormac McCarthy - Suttree)
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