Sunday, October 13, 2019

Colors :: Creative Writing Essays

Colors Emulsions are thin, gelatinous, light-sensitive coatings on film that react chemically to capture the color and shadings of a scene. Color film requires three layers of emulsions, typically cyan (a greenish blue), yellow, and magenta (a purplish red). As light passes through the layers, each emulsion records areas where its particular color appears in the scene. When developed, the emulsion releases dye that is the complementary color of the light recorded: blue light activates yellow dye, green light is magenta, and red light is cyan.(1) golden beer lemon (sickly) Sunflower caution banana (mourning) school-bus Yellow. In sixteenth century England yellow was a sign of mourning. Sunflowers are yellow- and there must have been lilies in the arrangement too, because I remember the smell of the hot-yellow pollen. Sunflowers are yellow, but I didn't know it then. In that lemon-meringue hospital room; sunflowers, for sunny, for sun. He was called Sonny (for son for Sunny: he who is built around an engine), and for a long time I thought it was spelled Sunny, and into the blue my sun fell one day and proved me right. I belong to this Sunny, whose light was so strong people flocked to him - he saw through them to them, I belong to this Sonny who had enough heart (engine red and strong,) to keep up old arguments while his eyes yellowed and that paper thin hospital gown became thinner, the thin oxygen tubes terribly distracting from his face (though he wasn't thin - he had been gorging himself to save us from watching him fade.) He had put me in charge of taking care of the (sun)flower arrangement and my hear t broke (like rays of sun, fragmented) as I poured the golden water down the drain and threw the dying flowers out. (We still have the vase at home. It was useless and too necessary.) Over and over, in my mind, I trot up the aging stairs in our house. I hear a voice chanting, "I'mgonedieI'mgonedieI'mgonedie" and I see him lying splayed out on the cyan bedspread in that egg-shell room and I want to scream, "Heywhat'suphowwasyourday?" The baseball game (thick with silence) is playing on the walls and ceiling at sickly angles and I want to whisper, "Sowho' swinning?" I want to disappear. I go into my room and I close my head and I search for a cardboard box (ripping through piles of paper inside myself), something to put him in before.

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