Entry tags:
In living color
It's laundry day chez DarkEm, and after stripping my bed to wash the (dark gray) sheets, I turned around and saw this little tableau.
All that's missing is the aptly-named Graydie the cat, and my black Dutch bike.
Some external-feeling voice in my head tells me that I should try to be more colorful, that an interior scheme that looks almost identical whether photographed in black and white or in color, placed in a city that is often the same way, is somehow poor-spirited.
If you'd asked me a year ago, I'd have guessed that the kind of healing I've undergone just lately--in which decades of burdensome beliefs have been dissolved--would have resulted in a desire for more color; in fuchsia walls and Caucasian rugs.
But I really like these non-colors. Black and white feels crisp and clean. Gray feels calm...
...I kind of like the Caucasian rug idea, though.
All that's missing is the aptly-named Graydie the cat, and my black Dutch bike.
Some external-feeling voice in my head tells me that I should try to be more colorful, that an interior scheme that looks almost identical whether photographed in black and white or in color, placed in a city that is often the same way, is somehow poor-spirited.
If you'd asked me a year ago, I'd have guessed that the kind of healing I've undergone just lately--in which decades of burdensome beliefs have been dissolved--would have resulted in a desire for more color; in fuchsia walls and Caucasian rugs.
But I really like these non-colors. Black and white feels crisp and clean. Gray feels calm...
...I kind of like the Caucasian rug idea, though.