Fragments

RED

Colours. The very essence, inspiration and beauty of this world.

They say colours have a science. They have the power to represent and develop, entice and elicit. 

One such powerful colour is RED. 

The colour of sin, they say.

Thick Red Blood - you think of life. Pain, death, cruelty, vengeance.

Rich Red Wine - you think of luxury. Money, power, boast, corruption.

Lush Red Carpet - you think of glamour. Fame, sensuality, glitter, scandal

Deep Red Lipstick – you think of lust. Desire, passion, affair, betrayal.

So yes, it does seem like the colour of everything that is wrong in the world. After all, the devil himself is painted red. 

But then there is something else as well...

Beautiful Red Rose – you think of love. Bonding, warmth, tenderness, intimacy.

Love, an extraordinary phenomenon, is considered one of the best things in the world. Then why associate it to such an evil colour?

"Love is bright as sunshine." Then shouldn't it be yellow? The colour of light and happiness.

"Love is nature's gift to man." Then shouldn't it be green? The colour of life and eco-friendliness.

"Love is one of the purest of feelings." Then shouldn't it be white? The colour of angels and virgin robes.

I never did really understand this. Maybe, not everything in this world is so well-thought of after all. A few things are, simply, as they are. No justifications. No explanations.

Then one day: He hurt others because he had to. He had to protect his love. She was part of her and he couldn't let her tears go unaccountable. So instead he took pleasure in causing the pain. Payback was inevitable. For all is fair in love and war. So he vowed to put the world on fire for her.

Just like that, I think of love and bonding, pain and cruelty. Red.

She makes sure everyone sees her hand in his. She runs a hand in his hair, fixing the non-existent rouge strand. She beams at him and regales the accounts of his affections at every chance she can find. After all, the whole room must know how much she is loved. And that every other feels less cared for than her. She sees the jealous glances, hears the sighs of longing and her chest swells with pride.

Just like that I think of love and warmth, luxury and glitter. Red.

It was the most beautiful night she had ever seen, she thinks. The moon shined full and bright, making everything glow like diamonds under water. The chill in the air was oddly comforting and the silence was mesmerizing. Or, maybe it was because she stood there with him. Maybe, it was he who shined, enlightening the darkness around. And his voice was so soothing as he told her stories, and his twinkling eyes had put a spell on her.

All of sudden, it was a bit too hot. It felt a bit too crowded. And she felt the strangest urge to find if his skin matched her own burning one. She longed to hear his heart beating under her fingers. She craved to infuse his breaths with her own. And before she knew what was doing, she found herself in his arms, pouring into the kiss with a fire that could have set a forest on fire.

Just that I think I think of love and intimacy, lust and passion. Red.

So maybe, it's right after all. Representing love with red. But, what does that make love then...?