Burnt orange light feels safe.
Pop’s old library is full of it; lamp dappled walls, beautiful to look at, even more beautiful to feel.
How do you describe a feeling? You can only feel, and open up so others can know what you’re trying to tell them. Some people never open up. Some open and close and open again, like a snail rolling in and out of its shell.
I look for the switch, every day. The switch for the orange light inside of me. I’m the snail, and it is dark in here.
I will keep searching until I feel the light. When I feel the light, I will open, and journey on.