Furious novel He told me he saw colours. I told him to grow up. He told me when I spoke he saw carrots. I said to try something more original. He said when he heard radio static, he saw blue waves. I tried to ignore him, but it was getting harder. He sang me a rainbow as he played the piano. I made up a song that proved how B minor could never be red. The prime minister’s voice, he assured me, was purple houndstooth. I thought it something more uneasy. War, he promised, would be greys and whites, tedious but unconcerning. I promised myself to stay strong. The day he left, in his army green, he clipped his boots and called the sound yellow. I stared for some time at the empty doorway, wishing I saw, or felt, anything but an absence.
Furious novel
ReplyDeleteHe told me he saw colours. I told him to grow up. He told me when I spoke he saw carrots. I said to try something more original. He said when he heard radio static, he saw blue waves. I tried to ignore him, but it was getting harder. He sang me a rainbow as he played the piano. I made up a song that proved how B minor could never be red. The prime minister’s voice, he assured me, was purple houndstooth. I thought it something more uneasy. War, he promised, would be greys and whites, tedious but unconcerning. I promised myself to stay strong. The day he left, in his army green, he clipped his boots and called the sound yellow. I stared for some time at the empty doorway, wishing I saw, or felt, anything but an absence.