Outside: Issue 7: Here, There & Everywhere

All the other images fade, but for the orange flags. Stiff nylon, fighting lazily against a balmy breeze. Orange. Always the strangest in the spectrum. A colour, a fruit, a flower — all rolled into one lazy word. As if there were no other way to describe the ghastly coalescence of red and yellow. A marriage of pigments, arranged quite conveniently between colours I have mixed feelings about. There was red, a reminder of period blood and bindis and rage and lipstick, muddled with yellow, a seemingly duplicitous shade that spits up images of Wordsworth’s daffodils as quickly as it will Eliot’s yellow fog.