The following exchange took place as a result of the disagreement between the two speakers on the necessary doses of happiness for each one of them.
The speaker with more humble expectations regarding this elusive state offers a definition conveniently highlighting both the heart-bursting intensity of the feeling in its pure form and the consequent abrupt and noisily messy ending:
“If we really desired and dared to experience visceral, maximal happiness, we would climb on a roof or the ledge of a balcony, extend our arms and release ourselves in an exhilarating but short-lasting flight.”
One can imagine both the rush of the intoxicating free fall and the quick but powerful and fatal end; a poisonously strong concentrate of the combination of primary emotions. If we translated such a mix into the language of colors, the composite would be a heady jumble of overwhelming, strong primary colors instead of a more drawn-out state deserving of the more subdued pastel nuances.
“Yes, you’re right,” answers the other party, less humbly, “flight – or, its flip side, fall – succinctly represents the image of pure happiness. And, the opposite of this sublime and fatal state would be the endless, slow action of crawling on the ground like a snail, sticking to the earth with great effort and no desire.” The color equivalent here would be undoubtedly a khaki-nuanced brown.
The second speaker is right as well; crawling is certainly the diametrical opposite of flying and would be selected for no other reason than longevity.
Fortunately, we, common pedestrians, exist somewhere in between these states most of the time, at times figuratively kneeling, weighted down by some invisible burden, at others on the tips of our toes, like ballerinas, elevated by a momentary sense of happiness. And, thus, the balance between these states explains the loss of our wings and the evolution from flying to walking, or, conversely, our hesitant rise from the ground towards the sky or, rather, the ceiling.by Kleitia Vaso