he's my hero, smashing the piano

Ask me my favourite colour.
Ask me again.
They might not be the same.

I would say it's the light, ethereal teal, like the ocean one day. On other days, I would say it's the perfectly pale, almost not too bright, what I imagined buttered popcorn ice- cream would look like no matter how revolting the idea is. And the next day, I'll say it's the brightest of the light fuchsias. Some days, I'd say liquid gold though I have never seen gold in liquid form.

Today, however, I would tell you how magnificent is the colour of the thick creme brulee honey bath in the glass jar with Laura Mercier branded on the label. Placed on the red wood surface, its gold glistens in the jar. I would open it and smell the rich, thick liquid and it smelled heavenly at first.

But its scent. It lingers. And it changed to something so much more familiar. It started to smell like cough syrup and I found it amusing. Interesting for a cough syrup is amusing in its own way. Slightly sweet. Almost like preserved cherries. The aftertaste; bitter. Shame.

I would hold the bottle up high in the sky when the sun is up and bright. The liquid, gold in colour seemed more golden than it was when it was just sitting idly in the house within the confines of four brick walls. The liquid glittered like how gold dust glittered under the light when it's dark. One night, I would hold it up when it is full moon.

I would bask in all its golden glory and it would remind me of Felix Felicis in Harry Potter and the Half- blood Prince. It would remind me of the liquid luck Harry obtained from his new Potions master. It would remind me of how lucky he had gotten. How lucky Ron felt when he thought he had drunk it when he didn't even took a sip. Maybe, if I taste mine, I would feel lucky too.

Truth is, they would taste bitter thought the scent deceives you. It promises honey, caramel, vanilla, chocolate. Everything you would find in a honey creme brulee. It deceived me. It would nothing nothing like a spoonful of creme brulee. It is nothing but a bunch of chemicals concocted by chemists to generate a lot of money.

I would still admire it anyway just for the colour. For the scent. For how much it made imagine and dream. That alone, makes it a winner.

Ask me now what's my favourite colour.
I'd say it's the colours of perfectly bloomed purple hydrangeas with a slight pink- ish tint.

Ask me tomorrow.
For all I know, it could be black and orange stripes like a butterfly.
It could also be the colour of bright pink tulips at the beginning of spring.
It might be as blue as the sky or as white as the clouds on a sunny day.
I, myself don't know what it will be. Care to ask me tomorrow?

Current Location: where the wild things are
Current Mood: blank, really
Current Music: Gimme Sympathy- Metric

I'm Metric- crazy again, all out of a sudden. And I turned Nina into a Sea Wolf/ Blue Foundation fan. Joy!