i was young and liked the colour green. i coloured everything green in the colouring books i was given. garfield came out green. the foot from the floor was riddled with odd elvish tolkien green poetry. leaves did not have enough green in them. grass was the sea for me and i dove in with no fear.

do you know what freshly cut grass and rain on earth smells like? dreams peeles afer being freshly picked.

what do your dreams smell like? breathe deeply with your eyes closed. realize that what you hate might exactly be what you are longing for.

blue tastes like what?

white feels like what?

pink reminds you of what?

yellow says what to you?

do your dreams feed on the smell of old paper?

do your thoughts get occupied with the taste of nearly burnt popcorn?

does her/his breath run down your neck as you pant under your own hand?

is it your name you hear when you scream?