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STORIES are everywhere
The style in the big city now is an absence of color. Grey, black, slate, beige - although I hear that grey is the new beige - some denim still. My bend for summer color sticks out like the peaked high-rises above the neighborhoods. I choose color to cheer up life around me, like a flower among the grass. The ‘colors’ of rock, slate, barren slopes is not what I choose for daily wear. The young ones do. They seek the dark, the mystery, the fantasy world, in their clothing and their entertainment. Have they lost the courage to tackle the world they live in, merge with it? True, their world is a city, more concrete than meadow and forest, more rushing of traffic noise, than rushing of the wind in the trees, the breaking of waves on the ocean. They have to replace, escape, change to avoid feeling the oppression of their concrete world, a world where they have blended in with their clothing color. In the wild I wear slate, forest green, beige, a practical need to blend in with the world around me.
My clothing colors change with the season. I am lucky to live close enough to nature to experience the change of season. Seasons which haven’t been locked out by air-conditioned houses, office buildings, shopping malls.
I just spent three days in a hotel for a conference. It is one of those one-stop live-all-you-want places. Temperature regulated, dark and light regulated, i.e reversed, windowless rooms lit up by chandeliers, dark halls lit all night. Gym, restaurant, bar, quick snack, conveniently lined up, you don’t have to walk to them, you can just shift your sorry ass from one to the other and fill yourself with food and drink flown in from places far away, kept alive in the refrigerated hold of cargo planes. The sensor on the fire alarm went awry, woke up everyone three times in the night. Even a bit of dread, trauma was built into that one-stop-live world.
What have we done to ourselves, to create cities that hold the life force hostage, spewing out products for sale in an endless gushing stream of economic force. 20,000 People gather to cheer for the basics of survival in a political rally. 20,000 People who don’t have enough financial means to choose someone to lead them to a sensible life. The Koch brother’s family will do that for them.
I am divided, torn between the wild and community. I don’t want to wear black and grey all the time. I don’t want to feel lost among twenty thousand people. I want to feel united, whole. When I was young I could get swept up in the energy of a rally, a throng moving down a main corridor of the city. But that occurred after a childhood of living in the dunes near the beaches and the see.
This world is my world too. In the big city, I will be the lone colorful flower sticking out among the grey, moving slower, smelling the roses, causing an eddy in the throng of fast paced workers. Maybe someone will notice me, and slow down enough to think about why they wear grey and black all the time.