observations on life

Here in the land of white bread

color

So here I am. It’s winter. And I live in the land of sensory deprivation. I drive down the streets. The houses are gray, white, tan, gray, white, tan, and gray and white and tan. And because it’s winter, EVERYTHING, here, is gray or white or tan.

We don’t like to stand out here in Sioux Falls. We like to fit in. We like to be like everybody else, because the worst thing that can happen is for someone, anyone, to say we’re different. “Oh look, those people have purple awnings.” Laugh laugh laugh.

We don’t like to eat anything too flavorful, either. We like bland white food. We wouldn’t want anything to be too spicy, or have too much texture, or be too colorful. We really are opposed to color of any kind here in Sioux Falls.

We’re also fitting right into the latest fashion, for home interiors and clothing, where everything is gray or white or tan. Or black, in the case of clothes. Because we want our lives to be as dull, and bland, and boring, and white bread as possible.

What is wrong with us? Why do we do this to ourselves? Life could be full of color and music and dancing and spice.  If, I contend, we either lived elsewhere, say, the Riviera, or we stopped trying to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible, we could have . . . well, life.

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