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WSP '92


The kind of blue that you see just before night leaves the sky: a dark blue, a masculine blue, but not an impossible blue.  Rather, a safe feeling, again, as if the dark places are about to be bathed in warm light.  Traces of green that remind you of fall.  Feelings of crackling leaves and pumpkins and spooky, sinister things hiding around every corner.  The smells of the season's first chimney smoke.  Pumpkin pies and turkey and stuffing and pigskin on Saturdays.  Yellows and purples and oranges that were once vibrant, like the colors of youthful summers running and playing and swimming in the surf.  Days when life was grand and possible and exciting.  When everything was fun and funny and wonderful.  The colors swirl and dance, like girls in long skirts dancing to music.  Seductive and inviting.  Graceful and magical.  Familiar chords being strum, summoning us all to places in our memories.  Laughter with friends and nights that won't end.  All that is spiritual between kindred souls following a familiar path.  So much more than what it is.  Meaning that is almost too much for something so ordinary to possess.  But with this uncanny possession comes unbelievable attachment.  A treasure worth more than all the gold in the world.  Gold can't buy memories.  gold can't buy nostalgia that so encompasses identity as to become and project it.  Deep blues and oranges and greens and yellows.  The colors of the rainbow, the colors of my aura.  Can something so physical be something so spiritual?  Duality and simplicity.  Basic and profound.  Can one see the what if through the what is?  I say yes because it is mine.  It is there to remind me of everything good that once was.  To remind me that I was there and I breathed and I loved and I danced.  I say yes.  It is here to remind me that all things age and all things fade away.  And while we can't hold on forever, while we can't be whole forever, we will always be and the memories will always be.  Of the kind of blue you see just before night leaves the sky.  And of colors that dance and sing and make us live.  All good things in one priceless possession...

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From Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"

"It is not advisable to venture unsolicited opinions.  You should spare yourself the embarrassing discovery of their exact value to your listener."