Colors are the essence of life, for each is but a ligature within so many paths, options choices, each never being what seems it to be; When one comes into the building, tending, weeding out, seeding each day which makes the simplicity of one's own life, one needs to bend to the task, never minding all the social bugs buzzing around, trying to distract that being now slowly knitting a personal reality, a conscience of growing into diversity;

There is no time to make the bugs go away otherwise than making the self become invisible to all those social nuisances now buzzing around; so one must learn how to move, how to leave no scent, how not to decay, for biology only creates forever decaying animals, each a morbid path of rejects, pieces shed here and there, while the buzzers or buzzards keep gobbling up the pieces in order to reglue them all into a definitive social imagus, an eternal me, forever alien to any existential conscience;

To disappear into the existential garden now seeding out.