"You're the red in her painting." - I Am Sam

So simple to know something so profound. To have that inate sense of gorgeous love and struggle and contentment and darkness.

But we ignore it. We ignore that simple right-ness; it's a small little beauty, really, even when it seems so complex. We ignore, in favor of the more brass and obvious pleasures of the world. The ones that are sometimes adversely complex, yet empty, meaningless, and ever harder to obtain. We are always searching for what will make things better, what will make us appear bigger, smarter, more beautiful, better to ourselves and the rest of the world.

We scorn innocence, pureness, faith and hope as naiveness and silliness. We are above it, we grow out of it. We don't remember this Neverland where colors are bright and fun is of utmost importance and love just is, because it's true. We never seem to understand that though we don't remember it, we are always trying to get back to it in the things that we do because we can never find enough to satisfy us like this particular little space in our souls.


Children are still there in their minds, if they're allowed to remain for the duration of their childhoods. And sometimes I think those with special needs are there too...they just never wanted to leave the warmth and amazement of the Never-Never for the seemingly bleak "real world". Others are lucky to catch glimpses of the light and the Lost Boys as they stream by in their debauchery...fleeting spots of sunlight that dapple the otherwise bleakness of the common day.

I see your real world. And I think I want my soul world instead. What I would give to be the red in someone's painting.