Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Blue room
Warm, gentle sunlight bathes the pale blue room, such that it glows with a simple brilliance.
The familiar creak of the wooden floorboards greet the ears. The soft mumurs of the wind.
Other than that, silence.
The faint smell of paint; pastels and oils, acrylics and what-not.
The little hints of colours, little droplets on the wall and floorboards.
Canvases, stacked at one corner, with no order, no reason, simply there.
Large ones and small ones, blank ones and filled ones. Ones of joy, ones of love, ones of loss, ones of sadness.
The smell of the fresh, morning air wafts in, sending a breeze that lifts the light curtains into a happy dance.
And as I step in, I become a part of this room, submerged in its bare pleasure, its plain beauty. The sunlight falls on me, and I feel it's warmth, caressing me gently. I feel the cool dawn air at the same time, dancing in my hair, cold against my neck.
It's the room I dream of in my dreams.
My little blue room.