Three eggs in a nest, sky blue perfect and brimming with the promise of life. I 
wonder if this color was in some sense chosen in a rebellious moment, defying the conventional rules of camouflage and flaunting azure shades like targets on the moon. Three seems like the right number – triangular and solid — balanced against the random winds of fate. On the day these eggs hatch the cycle renews, and the future awaits more blue eggs in a brown nest, a circadian portrait in primary colors.
whoisfenton 