An orange is orange and that's what makes the word orange into not just a fruit or a color but a state of being: the state of being in which you feel no disjunction between what you are and what you're called, the state of filling your name completely, perfectly, so that no gaps of doubt, of "what if I were..." or "will I ever be...," remain. Who is lucky enough to count their name as an objective and recognizable condition? Even those whose names have other meanings -- Grace, Claire, Auburn. Can they claim to be contained within those words and can those words claim to be satisfied by them?
An orange is orange. And that's what I envy.
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