Life in Technicolor is when you are happy, just happy to be alive. The colours begin with one and end with another. You used to imagine what love could be; now we know. This is all pieced together from snippets here and there over our equilibrium of 364 degrees.
It started in faraway lands, made up of hopes and dreams that travelled across the wires and cables of Middle earth, years before we were born or before we came into existence. There was a message in a bottle, that touched your heart and you set out on a journey, in a white tee and the rest was history. This is what came thereafter.
Mornings begin with music and words, thoughts and ideas spread out between two lovers like the beginnings of the soundtrack of a lifetime. Your senses are assaulted over and over again until mind, body and spirit are left so raw, vulnerable and exposed that beneath each other you become pools of the same light from where your souls stare at each other.
Each moment has melody and you do not drift between each moment, you ebb and flow charged with energy into the infinity of your own making, whatever it may be, you concede but not in defeat and kiss the rain. The skyline, whatever it may be smiles down on the inception of your love as you wake up in the middle of the night and fall asleep at day break. People may wonder why you’re tired and you smile a semisonic smile and feel fingerprints on you longer after they have gone.
After the shower, hearing the familiar sound of a guitar filtering its way towards where we lay – soft, gentle and you. Getting up and deciding to watch you play, catching you off guard like that, you sort of gaze at me mid-note, welcoming me into your moment.
You don’t need to close your eyes and imagine anything, Neverland is right there, and you have your feet firmly planted on the ground. You try to plan your week or weekend, dinner, crepes, brunch, a movie, clubbing with friends, nothing, everything, maybe and decide to stay a little longer, not in a rush to go anywhere, when you have fallen, slowly.