Red is independent and bold. It does not cower nor shrink. To the soul, it speaks directly. Red calls attention to itself, but not out of ego, it is simply red. It rolls forth on princely carpets, colors roses and a cardinal rule. Red lives, breathes; it is the blood. It is the color of Saturday night dresses and bleary early Sunday morning eyes. Red is the heart of the spectrum, the core of the earth’s crusted mantle. Red is love. Red is life. Red is.