The Weight of Sugar
When I was seven, my grandmother kept a tin of hard candies on the high shelf of her pantry. I remember the way the light caught the glass lid, turning the contents into a pile of jewels that seemed too bright for a kitchen. I was not allowed to reach for them, so I spent hours imagining the exact sound they would make if I tipped the tin over—a sharp, rattling clatter that would surely wake the house. To a child, those sweets weren’t just food; they were a promise of something impossible, a concentrated dose of joy that felt like it could change the color of the afternoon. We eventually learn that the sweetness is fleeting, that the sugar dissolves and the color fades, but we never quite lose the urge to reach for the things that look like they hold the sun. Do we ever stop wanting to hold the light in our hands, even when we know it will melt?
Leanne Lindsay has captured this feeling perfectly in her image titled Macaron Cones. It reminds me that even on the grayest days, we can find a way to bring a little bit of that childhood brightness back to the table. Does this image make you want to reach out and take a bite of the color?
