I'm so obsessed with this line. Deep gold and orange, a tequila sunset. The colour of forest fire, the colour of liquor, of Kim’s revolutionary pilot jacket and of autumn, the old year slowly dying. Something softer, too, the colour of the Paledriver's amber world, that golden-sepia tinted window to the past, the colour of nostalgia and memories. The orange glow of the sodium street lamps in Jamrock, on Voyager Road, standing vigil over a life that doesn't exist anymore. Orange like the packaging of Preptide tablets and like apricots, like happy-bright pharmaceutical advertising and like the lingering ghost of colonialism. Swirling gold and orange and green like the cover of A Brief Look at Inframaterialism. Orange like a past only remembered in flashes, orange like a burning violent dawn, like a fire that burns away everything in its wake and leaves space for the new to arise. Orange like Lilienne’s generous watching sun. The colour of the streaks of light streaming through Revachol's skies, the sunset and the sunrise, the foreshadowing of Revachol's end. A beautiful violent light like the letters burnt into the tile of the plaza. Un jour je serai de retour près de toi. You know?