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Gamboge Orange Hex: #E89611

Like the color of the setting sun on an almost clear autumn day, light of gold traveling through a treasury of jeweled leaves. Or, is it the color of the rising sun, or the color of a melting creamsicle on the side of the boardwalk, left abandoned by passersby. She is the color of Haley Reinhart’s cover of ‘Can’t help falling in love’. How the orange color can radiate out of her like a halo of angles I don’t believe in. It’s hard without paint on my fingers, but I haven’t painted in so long. Would I even be able to convey my emotions through paint anymore? She is the pleasant feeling of the last rays of sun, or how the sun warmed grass feels on bare skin. Like the freckles on her nose, or just the way she can look at me, and make me feel like the most important thing in the world. We haven’t known each other for so long, her less than I, does she even understand just even a fragment of how beautiful I think she is? A color, it is the taste of spiced orange cider and sweet vanilla cream. The color is heavy as it sits on the tip of my tongue. Even now as I look out and see vivid greens, pastel blues, and stark white, I cannot help but think of that shade of orange. Pleasure comes to mind as I write this, hunched over the metal cafe table on the deck of the hotel room. She could never read such remarks and ramblings of my raw writing.(now as I hopefully type it out nice enough for her to read) Her mind scrambles words, like dice; always changing and turning things back on themselves. This shade I see, like the tint of my sunglasses on the empty sheets of white notebook paper, casting the world in a warm hue, that is how I see her. The color; it is her childish side, so sweet and playful, like laughter or the sound of bells and the jingle of chimes in the wind. She claims through laughter and gritted teeth that I’m out of her league, yet she cannot fathom how I perceive her, through my eyes and mind the world must look so different. There is so much I have for her, so much admiration, and maybe envy for her, there is still so much left to give. Orange can have many conflicting personalities as a color, but it is so rare that I associate someone with that color, as I have friends on the color spectrums of blues and purples, not to mention the fuschias and pinks. Looking back on it, I was only ever close to one other shade of orange, whose pale cleminitime color flashes through my head. I find it funny, when I first met her, she was such a brilliant shade of red, but over time, it chipped away, like old paint in a hotel, to reveal such a sweet shade of orange. She masks how she acts, but she has become so comfortable with me, and so fast has she melted before me. If I was a color, let me be cream or blue, just to melt like the golden rays of sunset on such a gorgeous day. Do I fall in love too easily? Would Chet Baker be proud? Or would he write another song of childish things. If she saw herself through my mind, how would she react? Would the color she see not be the one I see? Or, would she see the same color, just different reasons behind why she is such a color. Maybe she could understand how the color bleeds. It bleeds out, losing its vividness, turning into a soft caramel and coffee color. It’s still soft, but not as sweet. It’s so fragrant, almost, like burnt sugar and a small coffee shop. Fresh made caramel and ground coffee with notes of orange and the delicate hints of bergamot in the background, a flavor that I love but many detest it so proudly. Maybe I should buy her a cologne of this scent I can see so clearly, which smells like the blood of her color? Maybe she would like it, maybe she won’t. As the color bleeds, the pallor sets in, turning to a rich cream, like the milk atop my frozen coffee cube which I left too long in the freezer, the milk did not mix with the coffee, only froze in the status it was set in the freezer. Now it sits beside my notebook, slowly melting and mixing, with fire sirens playing in the background.

Orange, like the wings of a monarch butterfly caught on film of an old camera at sunset. Orange, like that painted in the Hollander hotel stairwell. Orange, the color of caramel, coffee and citrus. Orange, the color you are when you relax after being red all day. Orange, color of the last sunset on the boardwalk.

She is that color that means so much.

End of Notebook section.

Sincerely,

Glass

Introductions:

Hello everyone, my name is Glass and it’s nice to meet your acquaintance. I don’t know who still uses tumbler, and if you use it for the purpose that I do? But I want to share my writing with you, as I write this too early in the morning to tell you if it’s too late or too early.

I have this condition call Synesthesia, in short I associate things with colors; be it feelings, people, things, places, or even noises and taste. Every, if not everything has a color. I’m not the best at expressing my feelings, but I tried my best to express what I see and feel through my synesthesia.

Thank you for taking time to read this,

Sincerely, Glass.