Colourful

When I was 18 I was asked to do an impromptu speech. The title of said speech was ‘Colourful’. Quite frankly the speech was awful – mainly because I was still heady from the success I had on the previous speech I’d given, one about love. Inexplicably I tried to continue the theme. It didn’t work. I fumbled, mumbled and I failed. That was 4 years ago… Today I finally have my answer.

Colourful

Colourful. Full of colour. What even is colour? Well it doesn’t exist really, at least not on it’s own. Colour is something our brains fabricate. When our eyes see certain wavelengths of visible light, only then do we perceive it. What is blue? Blue is just a shorter wavelength of visible light than red. In a way colour doesn’t exist – just as a certain bow-wielding, winged love-baby doesn’t exist. They are both just creations of the mind… regardless, thank God that colour is perceivable.

Why? Well I would argue because colour is essential. Without it art would be lifeless, and in extension life would be lifeless. If the artist’s painting blended seamlessly with their canvas, what would there be to behold? What would beauty be? Beauty and ugliness would co-exist as life would just be pale, endless, shadeless grey.

Imagine people without their various shades of brown, beige and bronze! How dull would that be? As dull as you can imagine; the reality would be worse. What would be depth and shadow when everything is shadow? A world without colour is worse than blindness. For to be blind someone has to know sight or at least of it’s existence. A world without colour would be grey… and no pun intended but that too would be grey.

Colour is emotion. For me joy is light-blue. It is a warm yellow. It is a summer’s day where rays of sunlight dance across the skin like toddlers skipping along the sand, leaving indentations of warmth behind. Colour is the piercing white hot rage only ignited by injustice.

Colour is memory. Mellow pink tones of your baby girl giggling just after saying her first words, accompanied by the fresh pungent scent of an untimely doo doo slipping slyly out of her nappy. It is a silent darkness, utter blackness, abandoned in a house without electricity – until the delicate golden light of fireflies washes over you, illuminating young curious eyes.

And that is all it takes. For you to open your eyes. Then you would see the world is bursting full of colour. It is indeed colourful.

Thank you for your time:)

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