Life began as a multi-hued carnival of sight, sound, laughter and sometimes tears for a favorite doll lost or a toe hurt. It grew into something very black & white as teenage approached. Everything was seen through the grave lenses of ideology that was grafted and then crafted from the many books, films, snatches of conversations and bits of life experiences one went through. The twenties brought with them financial independence and the dawning of the fact that life was more than black& white. Also more importantly the fact that what was black to me was quite fair in the world’s view and what was pristine white to me was seen as dirty and abhor-able by the world. Now standing inside the gateway of thirties having dealt with bereavement, public ignominy, loss and the breaking of dreams and aspirations I understand that life is neither black nor white nor is it multi-colored, its infact just a grey. A grey that turns, swirls and moves like the early morning fog. At times it break