The color tastes like silent despair. Don’t tell me it doesn’t. The images flicker across the screen in colors too bright, white, and blue. Children silently turn and adults smile awkwardly. Jumps and cuts: There a field, there a beach, next a room in a house where the clock is of interest to the smiling family before someone says something and all is now forgotten. The color tastes like silent despair. We feed on it like moths at a flame, fading in our mouth but without it how would we live. The images flicker across the screen and we smile.