A droubble by EwanL
Red hot, white hot. Hot pink. Three-coloured heat? Could be. The heat of a quickened woman is the colour of loam. White cold snow? Blue is the colour of cold: I shiver when I feel the colour blue. Sometimes I taste colours; brown doesn't taste nice. It tastes, well, I leave it to your imagination, but I know it's true. It was proved to me by Dick Bullard in South Park playground when I tried to explain the colour brown. People should pick up after their dogs.
I get sick if there's a rainbow. Imagine feeling hot and cold tasting blueberries and campari at the same time. You'd feel sick, too.
The train doesn't return on the other track. Food is just food, although green tomatoes can be a problem. And I once had some purple ketchup. I eat a lot of stuff blindfolded, at least at home. I don't eat out much, I admit. Pizza Hut or a particularly violent flock on an Indian restaurant wall puts me off.. It's a family thing. Goes back generations. Synaesthesia, doctors call it. They know nothing. My dad put his own eyes out, in the end. I'm thinking of doing the same.