fuchsia. "The instructor said, 'Go home and write a page tonight. And let tat page come out of you -- Then it will be true.'" And here it is. My life is fairly new, my veins a little blue although I am the colour fuchsia. Fine spaghetti hair and a narrow second pair of eyes that help me see the colour red. I can't quite explain why I draw or sing or write -- or listen to the clickity-clack of keys beneath my fingers. I try to smile with a lava lamp glow though it's been called a "mourner's grin," which is true in a caramel candy sort of way. Sometimes I fall into an endless oblivion of -bling-daze-cradle-plummit-pop- and the sleeping sparkle of an unborn child or a tear unfallen... but then it does. back part of the feuschia project