Tragedie"Tragédie"Fully flushed in the face from the close encounter-with Erik's seemingly simple gesture or the appearance of the car of Raoul's drunken friends, she did not know-the young woman made an attempt to sit back in her seat for the ride back to the Opera. It was of no use, though; oh, God! He had offered her his hand! It was a common practice in the day for a gentleman to assist a lady into a carriage, but she had never willingly touched him before. . .Even through gloved hands, the meeting of their bodies would have meant so much more than mere civility: they would have seen each other as equals-their love could have bloomed into the red rose, as the white rose and the nightingale were mature enough to handle such a relationship. This could only have been if the connection was made, though-that physical notion must have taken place.It did not.So, was that why her heart, wracked in anguish, felt so low-so inadequate? Of course her lover had to intervene-her lover! Raoul!
On Th Bl n Wh Mix Color-Thing"On That Black and White Mixture Color-Thing"[Ugh.] I cannot tell you how much I dislike the color grey. No, I lied; I can. For starters, it's not even a color. It's a mix of two other non-colors, black and white. I mean, I can tolerate black or white because they're special (plus they're "opposites", so they are essential to the world of light and darkness.) But...grey... is the most "blah" of all the colors. It makes no visual stimulation; a person doesn't walk up to a grey wall and say, "Oh my! This wall is strikingly grey! I just cannot believe how grey this wall is! Oh, the impact on my eyes! Grey!" You see my point. Grey can also be used as a euphamism for being neither high nor low ("grey area"). I don't know about you, but I'd rather be one of the extremes and know exactly where I can head instead of being labeled "grey" and perpetually vacillating between my choices. I'm already wishy-washy as it is! Don't get me wrong; there are plenty grey things that I love, like my [soon