Dance of Colour

 I don't want to write today, I only want to draw.

I ordered the best pencil kit for me and the best sketchbook for me.

I know exactly what I want and what I need.

I discovered today that drawing is a huge part of me, of my soul. I have been depriving myself of it for so many years. This last week there wasn’t a day without me longing to draw different things, to visualize through the page my dream self, my dream life. To express the awe for the beauty I see all around.

If words could have colours and shape, I would draw swirls of thoughts and ideas, decorated with tiny details, small bugs and butterflies, hummingbirds and flowers, rich-green leaves and twisted roots of tropical trees, all entangled in a dance of colour and joy.

Some parts of the page would be darker, like some corners of my soul, some would have terrifying creatures lurking in the shadows, thorns and slime, venom and fangs. Tiny spiders would knit artisan webs between the branches of exotic trees. Huge flowers would lure the bees with drooling nectar and the mist of dawn sparkling on their petals.

I would choose my favorite colours for every detail with care and love.

Mustard dark yellow with dark wine red. Turquoise, like the clean water of a lagoon, would turn back to mustard yellow that reminds me of wet ripe wheat.

Red-orange like the mountains’ soil to the bright brown of a young and healthy horse, shiny with white gloss.

Miles and miles of dried grass hills are shouting with bright yellow, with the texture of a horse’s hide.

At the top of the page I would leave space between the tree branches for these fields to shine their yellow under a bright blue sky, some snow-white clouds would cross it here and there on one side. On the other, a sunset would draw lines of peach orange and lavender, with dark grey underlying their contour.

The trees would be covered in large dark green emerald leaves, fat and full of moisture. Bugs of all sorts would crawl on them into a hole in the tree trunk, where walnuts would be hiding in the shadow. A squirrel would be rushing down back to its nest, while a falcon crossed the sky.

This dance of life would be a delight to see.