I think sometimes

we think in colors

because we are psychologically divided between black and white,

red blood and white satin.

The winter’s often mild, lately,

While we think about green, red, and black poisons.

Je pense que je suis une femme jeune ou ancienne

(parceque…)

I’m purple. Dark purple. Passionate but world weary.

We think in colors. Sometimes.

But the land doesn’t think. It is.