what a palette

he liked it black and white with no greys in between even when cracks appeared so strikingly evident strictly speaking he preferred pink purple and orange yet when life gave him lemons the brush would not work the more he stroked and tarred over ruptures and fractures uncertainty became elusive and poignantly concise quite the opposite of what he had bargained for with all the power delusion distraction insecure fear and despair he knew that the writing was on the wall and yet the language was foreign complex and would not reveal meaning message beauty connotation and guidance as he was blocked into silence depression resentments all this had been the relentless story of his life and he could not bear it any longer seemed to have lost all control a rational mind portrayed it as the gift of desperation a way forward towards healing perspective and peace it was difficult to will positive emotions into effect matters did not fall into balance but skewed misperceptions what remained was hope rather than mere expectations and he carried his burdens into an unpredictable but promising future