The colours of love.

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It’s only when you get there that the reverence for what they love hits home, the flag a simple symbol of what any country stands up for, I think of Palestine or the difference between North and South in Ireland make more sense attached to the top of a bonfire than around the shoulders of an Italian football supporter standing in the smoke of a flared stadium. The flag of America is different. I was in Philadelphia to see balloons and flags, It makes me happy to take photos of balloons and flags, I don’t know why, I just think they’re striking and represent so much fake happiness and do such a job in convincing people that much of this happiness exists but it actually doesn’t, well it does but momentarily, sort of in a flash.

The balloon with such herald and promise, if it doesn’t have helium or that silver glaze seems to be actually the opposite of delirium and more realistically whispers “Here listen, what you thought was discounted inside is full price” so although nostalgic and floating away into a sky day with some child weeping sadly, it’s all talk and no walk with balloons I feel.

Although being wary of comparing flags and balloons, flags are much laden down, history and blood in most cases hard to ignore they have such meaning, the colours they pick stand alone and say so much more about why a country, especially America, exists. What happened in the process of that journey to existence? a flag seems to ask for reverence. I see a flag in America and well up, odd seeing as I’m Irish and will never probably gain residency in the states [I’d love to be an Ice Road Trucker though] so to see a flag in America is like the highest reminder that you’re in a place that fought tooth and nail to get those stars and stripes and also the freedom to buy fast food at regular intervals co-incidentally where they display numerous balloons. The flag does so much Balloons say so much too but theres an anti climax – Sorry but It’s balloons or flags for me these cold walking days. What else is there?

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