Sitting on the sun-warmed rust coloured leather L-shaped sofa. A summer breeze blows in from the open balcony behind. The TV reflects black. You can see the green slowly dancing in the warm air on the terrace which rises from the solid wooden stairs in front. A laughter that is the most familiar in your life cascades from the other side of the room.
To the left outside the door, in a white, artificial yellow and royal blue titled corridor descends a figure in red, instantly consuming all focus.
Following the guidance of the yellow. A pitstop into a branded green sunken space. Through the rotating doors, rushing through the open corridor, the outside to the right. Passing figures engaged in elsewhere. The time hangs above, compressing. Around the corner, she waits for me in the beige, her being emanating white. Leant against the wall, still, but somehow glimmering in motion.
The morning flow was interrupted by the most surreal sight. The furriest bee that I have ever seen was trying to consume its way to the bottom of a tall glass Kilner jar full of cherry pie. Clouds of flies were pressuring the room from above. A mass of vibrant jungle green potted plants were wilting as they descended. They then began to engulf a comically large bunch of bananas that were hanging from a metal stand on top of the stove.
By now the bee had reached the bottom, preceding to crashing into the glass as if trying to escape. Although if that was its goal, the jar was never clipped shut. If the bee had never began its feast it might have realised it was open from the very beginning.
Tucked in the corner of a towering building, my brother and I were constructing two houses from a dense green wood. As the sun began to set, all the warmth ran, escaping down a nearby alleyway. Realising our desire for light, we moved from the shade to a space still glowing beside an empty park. A set of swings and a roundabout, absorbing the last of the day’s sun, looked on as we once again began the construction of our green houses.
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