░▒▓█ Mold Is Beautiful █▓▒░

I am fascinated by mold, the processes, its look, and how is operates mindlessly. When I speak on the subject of mold do not confuse it for the harmful kind that exists in houses and makes people sick. Im talking about the kinds that exist on old fruit and wet logs in the forest. For a while my profile picture was a picture of a moldy orange. The random playlists on my Spotify have pictures of moldy fruit. It intrigues me because it's simple and exists to consume. Born out of a dark and moisture heavy environment. 

The concept of something that takes over something already aging and dying is so gorgeous. A unnatural fruit will not rot. But one born out of reality can achieve true enlightenment. In a world where aging creates tropes in horror movies especially for the feminine population while on the opposite side the coin rusts beautifully and becomes a silver fox. The most spoiled fruit rots on the inside, while the dirty appearance of another still bears edible fruit inside. 

Mold is a creature much like ourselves and only furthers decay like a reaper by our sides to the river styx. It shouldn't be ugly when it exists in the same world as other beautiful things. It marks the end of something naturally occurring like puberty marks the start of adulthood. Rot and mold marks the beginning of the end. Even still I believe mold looks very alluring with its almost fuzzy texture but it also possesses bright colors. Like your forgotten raspberries have been given a green and white celebration to mark its journey to the bottom of your trash. 

Don't misunderstand me I do not mean that you should go around and eat the moldy foods in your house, or scrape the particles off your bathroom shower floor to admire their existence but purely to see the strange but very unique methods of decomposition and growth for what they are, simply that a process. So that if someone were to ever exclaim pure disgust for the thing you can know there is more to it than just a gross thing that lives to torment your perfect lives. All things must end and I would rather have my bones covered in phthalo green and beige-ish hues to have the lives in the dirt know that my time is over than dry meaning with no awe in it.