[Uh, I meant to leave that “subheading” there. What am I doing with myself, no sleep, non-tent mania…]
Hey, so Magia Record’s on. How’about a salon shop chat? Have you seen the hair colors on the girls? Um, per-fect. Check it, above or below:
I don’t even need more pictures or character descriptions to make my case. Just the colors’ll do (and excuse a moment to mention those chins to die for, with the adorable little blushes under their vacant, washed-out eyes).
Oh, but what’s that? I’m not making any sense? My thesis? Something about a serious-ish existential work? Nah man, I just want colors. I don’t care if Magical-Girlism drives its victims to despair or that a race of predatory-cute cat creatures latch on to their feelings for energy-harvesting abuse. Make me a pentagon and gimme that copper green patina, girrrl:
Mmm hm hm, or steel blue, yeah:
Yellow like an Easter Day:
Plus pink peppermint (a coincidence that you can barely see it on my background? Oh, I think not.):
Then that light blue like when the sky doesn’t know what weather it wants to be:
Even grey has never looked so pointful:
And rust red, a color I would have never glanced twice at, oh so lush now:
Puella Magi Madoka Magica asked its magical girls why to be. Magia Record, redundantly, wonders much the same.
But I ask “why ask” when we have such wonderful colors in the world? Such pretty pentagons. Sometimes, I can subsist on the dream alone because, no matter how dark the magical girl story, it’s still more colorful than real life.