Beneath the white walls, there was orange.

I have such a vivid memory of the first time I heard this song. I was living on East 5th street. A very small house, the kitchen seemed like it was made for a midget (And I'M short). The hardwood floors stretching throughout the house were dingy and damp. All I could focus on were the cobwebs i'd soon get to sweep from the corners.

Soon after we began moving in, we both immediately opened a fresh can of paint and went to our rooms. I picked orange. A very dull, grayish orange. One that makes you think of Fall and dead leaves. I had the small room, my bed barely fit. I loved that though, it was cozy and warm.

The moment I put that cd in my computer, and heard that song my spirit felt a new beat. It was a slow beat, a low beat. I finished the song, and lit a bowl. I think I listened to this song on repeat for hours and hours. It was intoxicating to me. I loved crying while listening to this song, because sometimes I forgot how to cry, or that it was ok to cry, and this song allowed me that.

So many things happened between those walls in that house. Secrets were told, then broken. Memories were made, and forgotten. Paintings were painted and left behind. Friendships were cherished and left to die.

And underneath the now white walls, there was orange.