Tristian started crying again, I stood up and went to go see what he needed. After he was fed and rocked back to sleep I turned around and smacked right into Colt.
Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses ... deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth—reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. — Guildenstern (Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead by Tom Stoppard)
