For the longest time, I had grey pinned as a terribly boring and dull colour. The colour of rain. Fog. A dead heart (which is quite a romantic notion, I confess. An actual dead heart boasts all kinds of colours).
Sloppy thinking, to say the least. Rain is what helps plants grow. Fog is what helps us focus on our inner regime. And one dead heart isn’t the end of all that is heart-related, because a large part of what we perceive as heart-related matters, is down to universal consciousness. The heart seems to be more of a transmitter than a generator. Me thinks we need a semantic re-appraisal of this element of our starry constellation.
My pinning of the colour grey also seems to be more of a semantic thing than anything else. I’m not saying I now like grey, as a colour. But there is a difference between liking and appreciating. It’s kind of fun and in line with other crumbling parts of my life to acknowledge that my predominantly linguistical approach of the colour grey is too narrow-minded.
(Of course, the little grey cells are now cheering out loud. “Ha! It IS up to us. Grey is the new sexy. Ha! Ha!”)