Feeling sort of grey and soupy today, of indeterminate hue. No drop of blue in it that I can see, and purple was never on the menu (brings me out in a rash). But still cannot discern the dish’s flavour, cannot espy the season’s colour. All seem thin, with only the limpest flick of the wrist dispersing them to reveal the darkening fog beyond.
Yellow was ‘big’ for a moment or two but when I blinked, behind my eyes I saw an odd smudge of teal in it’s midst. Anyway, so I absent-mindedly prodded this yolk (with a brush or a fork I can’t actually remember) and it went sort of orange’y and congealed into an uninspiring puddle.
A minor red flash tried to add heat to a very lukewarm pot. Ho-hum, tasted alright I guess.
Suddenly remembered where I’d put the green but it was mostly used up and what was left I only went and spilled it, didn’t I? Now look at it, I mean me.