Wednesday, 17 February 2010

The colour of Not There


You paint houses for a living. Wash walls with colour. Bring life to something listless and dull.
So what happens when the child of the house stumbles up to you, and asks if she can paint too?
Your hands inside her pants in exchange for a few brushstrokes seems a steep bargain.
You're a painter and with your bare hands you've painted her over forever.

4 comments:

Saltwater Blues said...

why did i always think you were a guy!

ramyaranee said...

It's painful reading this.

Sandip Gangakhedkar said...

Very Kafkaesque! Loved it..

Amruth said...

"Why?" she asked, as she colored yet another lackluster wall bright.

And you said, "It is not the stroke of a few brushes that color a lifeless wall. It is not paint that fills the dull wall.

The colors come alive to fill a deep void, inside of me. Now inside of you"