I hear it
I understand why Van Gough was so fond of blues and golds.
Because the blues are so intoxicatingly dark and loud. They surround me and suffocate me with noise and light and extremities.
Have you ever gone outside without sunglasses and it's so bright, you just have to close your eyes? That's the blue.
And the gold... At first it's a relief. Like the silence I needed. But then it's a rush. It goes. And goes. And goes.
But the problem with trying to explain madness is that it's not just hysteria. It can be very quiet.
Ultimately I think the repetition is what gets me. It's like being outside of myself.