When I was seventeen, the word ‘red’ meant only one thing: the colour of my girlfriend’s hair. I lie; now it comes to me – her red lipstick lips too. The thoughts we had and things we did. But of course it didn’t last and, well, things change. I changed. I was angry in my early twenties. Red mist descending and all that. Life was a struggle for a while. We drank lots and had Sunday lunches in the pub. I liked a Bloody Mary as a hangover cure. A colour for hope, anger, fear and regret. Which wins out?
-
Follow
Following
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
MW Bewick 
Just want to say what a great blog you got here!
I’ve been around for quite a lot of time, but finally decided to show my appreciation of your work!
Thumbs up, and keep it going!
Cheers
Christian,Earn Free Vouchers / Cash
Colour for beauty perhaps? Lovely story.
And Christian, isn’t he a spammer? I got these kind of ‘great blog’ comments often, with a commercial link.
Thanks Anneke, you’re maybe right there. I missed the link this time – must have been in a hurry!