The flames are the hair of the fire.
Both flames and hair play second fiddle to wood and bone. They are accessories to the main game.
Both draw the eye because they move independently from their source, because they move.
What moves is a dance. Movement invites time more than stillness does. To watch movement is to be caught in a flow of time. We love to dance in space but more, we love to dance in time, not just plod slowly to our demise.
Both hair and time do great solos but depend on their source to set the rhythm and the base to keep them grounded.
Both hair and flame grandstand. They both need a wheelbarrow to carry their ego.
Hair has hairspray to dampen its inclination to move. Flames have no flamespray to curb their nature. Flames only ever flicker, agitated, restless, wild.
In our imagination there is world where flames can be permed and parted, combed, tied in a bun.
They are at their best in the fire.
We all come to terms with our limits, because we’re such great negotiators!
Flames are like hair.