I've always found it strange that people see blue as a sad colour. I guess it comes from the romantic poets who always used it to portray how destitute their lives were and how painful their existences were. It's unfortunate that blue got the reputation it did as a cold and depressing colour.
I love blue. My room back home is blue (only two walls though (mum didn't want it to feel too cold). My bedsheets are blue. I have blue bags and jumpers and plenty of blue clothing. Blue is my favourite colour. It has always filled me with this resounding peacefulness. Blue is my happiest colour. I don't know how anyone can think poorly of blue. It surrounds us constantly - In the sky, the air and water. It inhabits the entire world. It's the most beautiful colour and it can have so many meanings. I found a poem a while back by Philippa Lane called Blue and I fell in love with the way she described it: Blue floats and hovers it never comes to rest its scent is distant bonfires its touch moth-breath Blue is man-child with spiritual eyes a stranger in a room who isn't one soft down on upper lip felt without touch it is dreaming at night of what is not and cannot be it is gauze-vision half-reality it is a shaky signature on a typewritten page seen through mist Blue is pain that is borne alone it is quena music bone-notes quavering over absent flesh in death worship yawns are for want of blue and partially for having it Blue is pigeons and siamese cats and snow shadows it is for ever stretching it is ten billion spindles weaving blue fabric endlessly it is the certain uncertainty The way Lane shapes the colour blue is so reflective of everything I think and feel from it, the happiness I have always associated with it. Maybe it's just me.
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About MeHi! I'm Niamh, and welcome to my blog! Categories
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