We just never imagined Yellow Magic Orchestra, the original cyberpunks, would age as well as the German pioneers of electro-pop have.
John's "Imagine" wheel: Yellow rose border, daisies; Red rose mandala.
With the advent of Google glass, it's easy to imagine a yellow path projected from King's Cross to Trafalgar Square, mentally reducing the space between the two places into one of Ogilby's maps; an efficient path from here to there, but one which loses the sense of the city as a whole.
I'm not sold of this whole thing yet, I can only imagine little yellow MP3 player/scud missiles or digital camera dart shooters.
Imagine a yellow light at the solar plexus glowing brighter with each breath.
I had always imagined that yellow stars would be made of fine, crisp cotton, not this greasy material.
Imagine a bright yellow doorway on a pocked concrete wall, or an enormous pink cube careering along the pavement.
Imagine how the Yellow Jersey must have blazed and glowed as the Tour entered those devastated territories of eastern France.
Sometimes, after the last snow in May, after the red-winged blackbird clutches the spine of the cattail, after he leans forward, droops his wings, and flashes his epaulets, I imagine shouldering the yellow center lines of the road.
