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he finds solace.

The bright pink of Jeff's skin when he returns from a night out, hunting; the vivid crimson of bloody wounds against his skin; the stark white of his knuckles gripping a stake; the brightness of the fire burning behind his eyes, a reflection of th(more)
They came in all sorts of colours.  Pink, oranges, blues, sea green.  But for some reason she choose grey.  I guess it was a reflection on how she viewed the world at the time.  It was full of  bright colours and yet, to her, it seemed grey.  She couldn't quite pu(more)
Alfred doesn’t see in black or white or in a spectrum of grey.

He views the world in bright colours—thrown together like paints haphazardly slapped onto a canvas, dripping, blending, mixing, blurring.  Half mixed, half apparent, some patches such a conglomerate that the individual shades no longer d(more)
She remember how the hot air balloons would rise over the horizon, their bright colors striking against the blue, summer sky. Her grandma said they came from the golf course down the road. When they came over her grandparents' field the balloons were still low. They seemed massive, like(more)
Spring sunlight bounced in bright colours. It was almost saturated. It was nearly to much for him to look at. Hungry, he could not find the strength and motivation to head out and buy food. He was dodging the vague shame of the night before by staying entirely still.(more)
Feliciano likes to paint people in bright colors. He wants the fullness of the original subject to come through, wants them to look fully alive. But he just can’t find a blue bright enough to match Ludwig’s eyes, so he pushes the canvas away in frustration, a heavy sigh(more)
On Easter Sunday, bright colors fill the church.  Hats and ties and shoes and flowers, people and stained glass, all of it decorating the room.

Songs tell a tale of days of old and of today.  In bright colors we welcome the spirit of spring to our pasture.  And yet if(more)