"It's not right, it makes me uncomfortable.. I don't know" we say clutching our ideals. We draw lines, we can't comprehend their curves and connect them, enforce them when it appeals. It makes it easier to shout a statement when your vocabulary is as small as fits. In a room a similar shape and size to ours someone just like us moves around. Rearranges the furniture and leaves from a different door, using the window when it suits. On the surface it is legible in monochrome but a solid shade is only light that is broken up, it's the way our eyes perceive that makes it what it is. Between the black and white there is grey lines and dashes themselves made up of what they are. I let the colours run to nerves and seep through, touching every corner, unashamed of what it might contain. A picture made up of many colours, themselves a hybrid: a beautiful landscape. To see in black and white a filter separating what's really there and what's easier to see, a pane of glass that serves to smooth the pictures in our head: a vision once so clear. We defy our character by separation, ignorance and fear.