The Other Side of Your Color In Brownsville, every line designed round brown and blue silouhettes. The edge of the landscape was brushed by wooden roofs, dried up pine tree tops as well as beaming waves of heat. There was no green color. Everthing was brown and blue. The inhabitants wore light blue or brown-beige cotton shirts, skirts, dresses, pants or the combination of either or both. All women were round, not fat, but round. They sat on brown peeled wooden benches that rested quietly in dried up parks. A woman wrapped in beautiful red silk garments, not apple red but orange red, a live red, a vivid red, appeared suddently and walked down the dusty roads of Brownsville. All people, dressed in rags of brown and blue, did not understand other colors existed. This girls red was ignored and denied by everyone. She had no one to talk to. No one dared talk to her. It was too risky. "Excuse me sir," shed say to someone. Or, "excuse me missus,"