When my old manager, expressed her love for grey, (the colour not the infamous protagonist) I didn’t know what to make of it. The rainbow has seven splendid colours. Great fashion statements can be made in black. But Grey?
The semi-permanent colour of the sky in England. The colour of a dusty old rag which is picked up only by tips of your two fingers.
My aesthetic senses generally bend towards colour. At work, my outlook is usually monochrome much like my outfits. In my personal relationships it was mostly pop colours.
But then I experienced kindness and cruelties. In the same person. In the same spectrum of a relationship.
In my own very self.
Now as I scan through my full black head, it has taken me to reach thirty two to realise that perhaps grey is not such a terrible colour afterall.