Tag Archives: color

by Joy Luh

Silver. It was everywhere. Always. A flash of the underside of a bird’s wing as it caught an updraft. The color left behind when a fly is there then gone. Maybe the reflection of a passing plane in a puddle, whose stillness has yet to be disturbed. Everywhere. Perhaps the color that someone with synesthesia would see to accompany a sweet note. It was the small things, the dots floating around in his vision that he could never quite catch. The color that went hand in hand with the sound of a ring dropping onto a cold and unforgiving floor. The color, or what he imagined the color to be, of the varying screws and bolds and plates all wound up in his body. Continue reading →