Staring Into the Sun

Yellow is the color of transformation. 

In the morning, she’s the dried yellow of a corn field — unveiled after the spring sun melts winter snows — waiting to be tilled. In the evening, she’s the color of fall leaves before they turn brown and crunchy, 

Near dawn and dusk she is a warm yellow draping herself across tree branches and telephone poles; welcoming the transitions between light and dark. In these moments she looks how we knew her as children, when we drew the sun with bright Crayola yellow and with rays outstretched like arms.

Under a yellow sun the world starts to feel like honey, the trees sway and the squirrels wallow, drinking in the sticky serenity of these golden hours. She is so inviting that even the most timid apartment dweller is tempted to venture out and bask in her warmth.

That night they go to sleep dreaming of the sunset and the next morning a yellow dandelion finds its way through a crack in their concrete steps. They pick her up and carry her with them. She sits behind an ear or in a buttonhole carried along as a pocket-sized piece of the sun.

Later, a yellow sweater peaks out among the racks of second-hand clothes, bright against the backdrop of blues and greys. They snatch her up and bring her to the register before they can second guess themself. 

Walking down the street in their yellow sweater they feel themselves stick out like a red umbrella in the rain. But when they look up and see faces and storefronts tinged with the same golden hue that drew them out into the world, they start to stand a little taller and stride a little wider.

Creative Direction Caroline Hundley
Words Nisha Mani
Photographs Becca Tarter
Featuring Zinaida Calixte

Armour Magazine Season 26 — S/S 2021

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