a blank page full of possibilities
we had to get new passports this week. a passport is a snapshot of your past 5 years and a wealth of possibilities for the next 5. you’ll notice i’m not publishing my passport photo. oh no. it was a wet and slushy day, the sort of day to plaster your hair to your head. the lighting in the photographers was a fabulously flattering yellow so that everyone looks jaundiced. and then they tell you not to smile, apparently canadians don’t smile. trying not to smile makes you look like a muppet. with flat hair. and jaundice. and criminal intentions.
i want to fill this passport with colours. a deep burgundy red like a full-bodied red wine from italy. stoney grey, the colour of oyster shells, chipped straight off a rock in brittany. all the blues of the bahamian waters. a thousand greens, leaves in a rainforest. electric blue, as in a morpho butterfly fluttering in the forests of costa rica. i want to spray it with the gold of a sand dune in northern australia. i’ll splash it with the violent reds and oranges of the flowing lava in hawaii. i’ll paint it with the teals and emeralds of volcanic pools in new zealand.
think of all the possibilites contained within a few small pages.