" I See Red" 
a conceptual thought by Bri Liams

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Red has always been more than just a color to me. It is not a shade that simply exists in the background—it commands attention, demands reverence, and refuses to be ignored. My love for red is not rooted in aesthetics alone; it is an extension of my being, a reflection of the fire that has always burned within me. Red is the color of my desires, my ambitions, and the depths of my passion. It is the boldest declaration of self, the loudest whisper of longing, the most intimate connection to who I truly am.

 

From an early age, I was drawn to red in ways I couldn’t quite explain. I remember fixating on it wherever I saw it—on the cover of a book that called to me, in the striking lips of a woman unafraid of her power, in the flicker of embers glowing beneath the surface of burning wood. Red was everywhere, and I sought it out like it was a missing piece of myself. It was not simply a preference but a recognition, a knowing that this color encapsulated something that had always existed within me.

 

Red is desire in its purest form—uninhibited, unapologetic, and visceral. It is the feeling of wanting something so intensely that it courses through the body like an electric current. It is the anticipation before a first kiss, the hunger in an artist’s hand before brush meets canvas, the unwavering determination in the eyes of someone chasing a dream. Red pulses with life. It does not sit idle or wait to be acknowledged—it forces you to feel, to react, to surrender.

 

When I see red, I see movement. I see the undulating curves of fabric catching the wind, the sharp, clean edges of power in a tailored suit, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows on skin. Red does not hesitate. It is always in motion, always shifting between love and rage, passion and destruction, creation and chaos. It is the duality of everything I am and everything I desire to be—at once delicate and dangerous, vulnerable yet commanding.

 

Red is also defiance. It has never belonged to those who shy away from expression. It is the color of rebellion, of refusal, of standing one’s ground. It drapes itself across revolutionaries and lovers alike, those who are willing to risk it all in pursuit of something greater. It has been worn by those who have no choice but to be seen, those who walk into a room knowing they will turn heads and never shrink from the weight of that attention. It is a refusal to be silenced, a refusal to blend into the background.

 

But above all, red is love. Not the soft, pastel kind of love that is cautious and measured, but the all-consuming, heart-racing, world-altering kind. The kind that pulls you under and leaves you gasping, the kind that makes your pulse quicken and your breath catch in your throat. It is the love that does not ask permission, the love that burns so brightly it cannot be ignored. Red is not just about romance—it is about devotion in all its forms, whether that be to another person, a passion, or a dream. It is about loving so deeply that it transforms you, about giving yourself over completely to the things that set your soul on fire.

 

For me, red is not just a color—it is a way of being. It is the permission to take up space, to want more, to feel deeply, to exist without apology. It is every risk I have ever taken, every moment I have chosen desire over fear, every time I have trusted the fire inside me instead of listening to the voices that tell me to play it safe.

 

I see red in the way I move through the world. I see it in the way I create, in the way I love, in the way I refuse to settle for anything less than what sets my soul alight. Red is my reminder that I was never meant to be quiet, never meant to be afraid of my own power. It is the color of my most intimate truths, the unfiltered expression of everything I am.

 

And so, I embrace it. I wear it, I surround myself with it, I let it guide me toward the life I am meant to live. Because in red, I see myself. In red, I am alive.