Wearing white

Wearing white is totally a state of mind. Some days you can’t even contain all that brightness. Days on which the whiteness clashes with some inner darkness. Because, you can most certainly admit it, sometimes there is an inner darkness.
Bust when spring peeks and almost touches summer, when the air fills wish wheat wisps and soft dandelions, than the sole clears up as well, and the hand, absentmindedly, will take something white out of the closet.
A white outfit, flapping in the wind, catching the air movement, filling the gap between the garment and the body with light breeze. And than, something happens. A sliver of light, a bright fragment, finds its way inside. To the depth of the sole, where ever it may be.
And maybe, it was all the other way around. Maybe the white bloomed inside first, unfolds delicate petals who touch the mind and brighten the corners. Maybe than, with soft eyes, the world appears more forgiving, more loving, brighter. Maybe than, it will be possible to wear on the outside, but mostly on the inside, white.