Monday, January 20, 2014

A tale about a boy with flowers in his hair

My brilliant colours, may you always be.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom lost, there lived a boy. He loved colours. He was the colours. He was the hues of endless blue skies, the colours of the moody, stormy ocean, the colous of the unsure winter dawn, the colours of the sunrays playing on the water, the colours of the flowering and dying plants, the colours of joy and wonder in children's eyes and smiles, the colours of the raging mountain winds, the colours of love and peace. And he brought the colours with him everywhere he went, colours spreading behind him like enormous wings. His purpose in life was to paint the world, for that lost kingdom lacked colours. The things and the people he touched were made to come live with colours and joy. He travelled day and night, resting in the forest openings, painting the grass he was lying in and the air around him. He touched ethereal cobwebs of geometric patterns growing from the earth and they came live with colours, and he named them: flowers.

to be continued...

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