The massive overhead storm cloud surely indicates that it is still raining somewhere in this scene, but not on the heads or in the mindset of these three carefree boys. Blond tresses bounce below an old baseball cap on the creative leader of the group. He is all ‘boy.’ His expressive wonder with the moment is hardly deterred by the adolescent passage of braces. At the heart of the trio, the curly brown haired one confidently bears the weight of his friend. His open smile and light-hearted eyes bear not a glimpse of the burdens of life. The black haired boy, perhaps the youngest, is budding with thought. He leans in, full of promise. Tomorrow he may lead their play. Presumably, all three boys are barefoot; all three feel the same ground below their flesh. That primary connection far outstrips any variation in skin color. Is there truly such a thing as pure white or black? The blond boy wears the tan shorts. The black boy wears the whitest. All three wear t-shirts of secondary colors – a rainbow mix of the primary red, yellow, and blue equally painted on the hopeful horizon just beyond the storm. The crystal refracts the light into all its wondrous colors, touching an arm, an ankle, a nose…of “rainbow buddies.”