Magia Record in colors. Subheading: tries, fails to convince me that being a magical girl is suffering

Those sharp chins. Make me a pentagon girl!

[Uh, I meant to leave that “subheading” there. What am I doing with myself, no sleep, non-tent mania…]

Hey, so Magia Record’s on. How’about a salon shop chat? Have you seen the hair colors on the girls? Um, per-fect. Check it, above or below:

I don’t even need more pictures or character descriptions to make my case. Just the colors’ll do (and excuse a moment to mention those chins to die for, with the adorable little blushes under their vacant, washed-out eyes).

Oh, but what’s that? I’m not making any sense? My thesis? Something about a serious-ish existential work? Nah man, I just want colors. I don’t care if Magical-Girlism drives its victims to despair or that a race of predatory-cute cat creatures latch on to their feelings for energy-harvesting abuse. Make me a pentagon and gimme that copper green patina, girrrl:

Mmm hm hm, or steel blue, yeah:

Yellow like an Easter Day:

Plus pink peppermint (a coincidence that you can barely see it on my background? Oh, I think not.):

Then that light blue like when the sky doesn’t know what weather it wants to be:

Even grey has never looked so pointful:

And rust red, a color I would have never glanced twice at, oh so lush now:

Puella Magi Madoka Magica asked its magical girls why to be. Magia Record, redundantly, wonders much the same.

But I ask “why ask” when we have such wonderful colors in the world? Such pretty pentagons. Sometimes, I can subsist on the dream alone because, no matter how dark the magical girl story, it’s still more colorful than real life.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s