Growing up as a child, I always
loved to
color (
colour, even). It was
soothing and
lethargic.
Nothing chased the
blues away quicker than those magnificent
crayons. The
smell of cheap wax brings about
nostalgia do this day.
The greatest feeling was cracking open that brand new coloring book and flipping through it, finding that one perfect page that was just begging to be colored.
Such magnificent hues! The pinks! The blues! The reds!
The black! I adored the black crayon above all. There was something about it, the way it could be incorporated into any picture, and still look good, that appealed to my senses. And it was all about pressure, wasn't it? Slight indentations would give you a scratchy gray (or grey, if you will). Bold pressing would give you the darkest of the dark. Made a coloring boo-boo? Blackify it! That picture of Barbie not goth enough? Hooray for black! Black's counterpart, noir, could always be counted on, if you wanted to sound continental.
I think coloring boxes should come with two black crayons.
I'm tired of the black crayon always dying first.