The brain is the engine of the mind, its ex-machina, the dogma of its ghost in that machine so to speak, but only when the blood that moves through its veins is not blue. Now i am not a man of prejudices, as i hold none, but colour is important to me, it holds great significance, and therefore mine better not be of the sort thats associated with the likes of rhythm, no sir, mine better be red, and i don’t mind the stereotyping that it comes with that colour, be it the peoples of the south of a certain country, or a political and social system, or any other, for you see for my beloved i bleed red.
