On the Color Red


A lover’s blush, heat and love and passion. Kindness, crimsoned dusk. A perfectly ripe strawberry, both sweet and tart, that bursts in my mouth. This color, Vulcan’s intensity, cast in nature and things man-made: pomegranate seeds, a watermelon late in the summer, the delicate petals of a poppy.


Six-inch stilettos also come to mind with the color red, as do cherry-flavored Skittles, my least favorite flavor. Roses in this color signify love, and a traffic sign means “Stop!” Funny that—stop—and also passion, lust, and sex. Life-force, what flows through our veins and pumps through our hearts.


Silly color, Red, you send me mixed message. Go. Stop. Sex. Stop. Passion. Okay, well slow down at least. My heart is full to brimming, and yet you say stop. I think I’ll talk to the Blue about you and see what he says. You are primary colors, together with Ms. Yellow, but she’s afraid of confrontation and won’t be much help. Blue makes flowing, languid conversation, like water, and he’s quite relaxed. Mated, the vixen and Mr. Blue make purple, such a grand blending. Peaceful and wise, the union is a royalty of spirit, the marriage of passion and flow. Lust with a hint of sadness. These two create the sacred hue—body and spirit unite. Magic.

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