Squandrous

Crayola Color Chart, 1903-2010 (via)

The first box of crayons I had of my own had 16 colors. I had been exposed to the larger boxes, with 64 or more colors, at school when I was younger, but the first box of my very own was a small, simple box.

I never was one for coloring or drawing, mainly because I was convinced (and am still, sadly, convinced) that I’m no good at the visual arts. Most of the time, I’m able to describe a situation or setting quite well — ask me to draw, paint, sculpt, or even take a photograph of that same situation or setting, and the result is often laughable.

But that’s neither here nor there; with my box of sixteen crayons, I would write stories. Even as a five-year-old, illustrations were never important — instead, I’d visually make my stories leap off the page by adding color to emotion: red for rage, green for serenity, purple for happiness. Every story I wrote had words of different colors vying for the eye’s attention

Maybe that’s why, to this day, I still see color when I am overcome by certain intense emotions. Maybe that’s why I can’t help but smile from ear to ear when I see photos like these, and maybe that’s why my world is a happier place when there are rainbows in the sky.

It’s a bit like the clouds are writing stories to me in vivid color.