It’s that time of year again. Spring. I can tell by the change in the winds and the times when I can feel the sun’s glorious gift of warmth upon my face. I cannot describe the change to you because there are no words for the feeling. I suppose in one sense it is to me what orange is to you. You know what it is, but you couldn’t describe it. You’ve felt it before, but you haven’t paid attention to it. You should. Just sit outside with your eyes closed and you’ll see what I mean.

Some days I wish with all my heart to be able to see the world around me. At the same time I’m afraid of what I may find. When I have nothing but my imagination, I can go on believing that the world is a beautiful place, full of those fantastic things that people are always trying to explain to me. Colors.

Then there are days in which I know with certainty that the world is in fact made up of two equally confusing concepts. Black and white. They are evil by their very nature. Elusive and slippery, they are things that I don’t understand and never will. They are polar opposites, like two ends on a compass. But that doesn’t tell me anything. This is all so frustrating that I want to scream! I want to know! I want to understand things that little children understand before they can walk and talk!

These colors, and the other two that are but also are not, puzzle and frustrate and infuriate me to no end! I have a burning desire deep within me to understand them. But if I do, they will no longer be the mysterious, beautiful, wonderful things that I dream about.