As a Darksider, I live in the absence of color: the impenetrable depth of the universe, the blazing of a star. Black and white.

Lightsiders can see sunsets of gold, pink, and violet. But also parchment earth, bloody scarlet of war, gray ash of nuclear blasts.

Still, I envy them.

Sherri Bale writes to the tune of waves crashing on the beach and the scent of salt in her nostrils.