colours & memories

After all, what were memories? These mere intricate entities that result entirely from man’s senses; memories so detailed they require such specifically similar circumstances to allow for total recall – a mere hint of a memory would scarcely conjure the faintest déjà vu.

But colours. Ah, yes, colours. Were they not the very visual essence of memories? Even the memories lacking in sound are alive in colour; even the dreariest, most monochrome images are, in themselves, black and white. Colours, he mused, were by no means carceral – they imprison nothing, hold no-one in bondage – instead they fill the world in which he lived, the memories that he made of it.

//had some musings for commonwealth essay :) couldn't be bothered to put it up on my blog. but thou shalt not steal. though, of course, you wouldn't get anywhere with text like that. writing has since moved on to more modern, xue-yang-amanda-chong style. not that i care, cos i'll prob use this lil excerpt here anyway.