Aidan San Francisco — 1985 Azure

Aidan has made another delivery. Returning home, he falls into bed, falls into dreams. Dreams from which one might never recover, dreams as real as memory held between the padded paws of sleep.

Orchids sway against a blue sky. He has never seen blue before. The sky, the bay, have always been black and white, cross-hatched into waves, blotted into clouds. Now sky and bay are azure. It is overwhelming, breathtaking, so much color, so much variety.

Although he does not know it, Aidan is seeing only a solitary shade, a lone variety of tree, a garden of red flowers, an orchestra playing a single note. There is no harmony, but neither is there discord. However, slowly, softly, color by color, shade by shade, Aidan’s vista is expanding. The world is in transition. With change and diversity come complications.