If you asked me my favourite colour, I’d not have told you it’s brown. I’d have told you it’s blue.
It’s true. I like blue.
But I also love things that happen to be brown–books, trees, coffee, and stories living on old, rustic pages. It’s a real colour.
But blue? It’s not real.
Skies aren’t blue; a mere trick on our eyes. Seas aren’t blue either; when you get close enough to scoop it in your hands, you realise it doesn’t actually have a colour.
But they looked much better in blue, doesn’t it?