It was almost an unfortunate reality they seemed determined to live in. A place of denial. A place from which they were unable to acknowledge that life did not need to move to be just that; life.
Little did they know how truly vital the colour green was to them. Sure, they knew green made them happy. That green was a nice colour, calming, and a prettier sight than the aridity of concrete. But they did not know the extent of those primal feelings.
They did not know that in fact those who lived surrounded by green, and those that planted and tended to life, were far happier than those that didn't. That there was a happiness, an unexplainable and yet scientific happiness, to the colour green.
Though maybe there was a reason to their blindness.
Perhaps it was that hiding behind this shield of not-knowing made it easier for them to see the world they lived in torn down and paved over the colour green countless times over. To hear about and watch entire systems of life destroyed to meet the materialistic needs of a modern society.
Maybe had they known then how important the green was, not only to the planet they all shared, but also to the physiological wellbeing of their peoples, they would have hesitated before cutting into the stems of Earth.
But realization like that was too much to expect. They had forgotten their once so revered feelings for the things that grew, and had replaced them instead with the simple want for ‘things’ in general.
Inside this colour were the very substances that had sustained them for years. Had evolved them, and evolved alongside them.
The frightening truth was that they were forgetting their histories. That they were forgetting the colour green had always meant life, and that they needed it.
And so they grew tired of their cities of concrete, but could not understand why.
Because little did they know, how they loved the colour green.