We lawyers are fond of what is known in the business as the “bright line distinction.” We like the assurance of knowing what falls on each side, though the adversarial battle in a given case tends to focus on pinpoint holes in the line–which after all ultimately may be as porous as the rainbow’s edge.
I aspire to be a half-full glass type of person, but founder on that line. I still tend to focus on the downturn, the mask’s saddened side. Flags at half staff. Storm clouds arrayed in equal measure with gathering blue. Half finished. Done and undone. The half-life of love and of grief. The missing pieces.
Half-and-half is far easier to capture in pictorial form: half cloudy, semi-submerged, partially in focus. Divided into land or sky or sea; demi-sentient; half-revealed, as with a wink, a mid-cycle moon, or a tree’s split fallen fruits; a vista of one side of the color spectrum at dawn, by halves bitter and sweet. Somehow both part of and alone in this dazzling world.