A week becomes a prism of colors and my Saturday ends near the highest end of the spectrum. The most visible light.

It's easy to lose myself in the black and white of newspaper columns these days. The glossy magazines, full color. I agree with Solomon: there is nothing new under the sun. Today's headline will be tomorrow's headline will be yesterday's news will return again at night in your dreams.

As the black and white fades to grey, someone becomes a rose with petals. Yellow to pink and the thorns wear down. (Smooth stems or bloodied hands?)