Day Three: Green There, Done That

Today seems to be all about green. Green can have many shades and many attributes. It can also have many connotations. Sure, green can be bountiful, the sign of a garden that's had tons of precious rain, as the garden here (indeed the whole city) looks in mid-summer:

Green can be envy, thoughts, halfway to blue as a state of mind, it can mean money (if you're American) or an insult (if you've just arrived). Green can also be memory. I noticed the badge of my alma mater, blessed Greenside High School, venue of misery and mayhem for five interminable years of my teens, perched on a window display in a school uniform shop. The security logo beneath it was priceless, as though all people who grow up here need to know the importance of authority.

Feeling thoroughly vindicated by this sight given the subject matter of my next script (the twin arms of government brainwashing in full force), I marched onward into the glare. The sky was beautiful, chunks of massive white clouds of every meteorological description. Again, the threat of rain but no delivery.

And greener still, my sweetheart's ailing lungs, infected with longing and sadness, for me and like me. Somewhere on my person something simply has to be green too. Perhaps that's a new idiom for the colour. As green as separation.