A hated muddler
People love white.
A neat, pure, homogeneous white.
They try to paint the brown and muddy water surface seriously.
When I find it, i'm driven the urge to thrust the order-breaking stick on the fictional and fraudulent white.
The surface, it regains its original color hidden by them. The People, they change their eyes color and reverse their hair. But when they get bored of denying me, they start painting white again from the beginning.
More than believing in the absolute immortality of white, perhaps, they just love the act of painting white.
この記事が気に入ったらサポートをしてみませんか？