Tag Archives: green
The same faces, hair and even glasses mark them out as special. One wears bright red trousers and a fleece with green stars; the other pale green trousers and pink love hearts. Different souls reside within these identical bodies.
Her long, gypsy skirt swirls around her ankles in the wind, flashing. Red, green, yellow, blue; primary colours dazzle in the autumn sun. She wears a yellow jersey emblazoned with a charity logo. Her smile is bright, but slightly forced, … Continue reading
Thick green leaves with red veins like arteries. A red stalk leading down to black, bulbous heads. Pulled from the earth and deposited here, they shed soil onto the cardboard beneath them. Inside dwells sweet red flesh, and juice which … Continue reading
They move in a pack, chasing after a girl who rides a pink scooter. She wears a green onesie, a belt round her middle. One child looks at me warily, then runs off to join the others on the playground. … Continue reading
They hide inside a steamed-up greenhouse, only releasing their sharp scent when the door opens. Plump green tomatoes, waiting to ripen. Bursting red ones, ready to be picked. I twist one off and pop it in my mouth.
Heart-shaped leaves and spindly tendrils have taken over. They spread themselves up the wall and around the window like an invading force. At intervals, blue flower spikes shoot out, firework-like against the green.
As the evening sunlight hits them, they begin to catch fire, like Icarus’ wings. They shed their green for the glowing orange, but their fall will not come until Autumn.
It starts out white as a bowl of cream. The machine adds colours – blue, yellow, green, red. Each in exact quantities, calculated to the last millilitre. As it mixes, the perfect blue emerges like magic.