Your colors [English translation]

PROLOGUE

The oil smells like honey. I carefully dip the brush in bloody color on the palette of paper and make the last stroke on my burgundy-lilac sunset above the ocean. The picture lends well to my internal state.

Emptiness. Indifference. Laziness.

I reward myself with the shadow over a smile and get a palette close to me, inhale this wonderful smell of the oil. Sometimes I feel addiction to this precious aroma.

Tomorrow will be an important day. I do not really care about it that I did not even prepare my speech. I would like to stand all the day and all the evening, in the middle of the studio, surrounded by paints, brushes, paper, and me.

I made the most strenuous exertions to close tubes with oil and tale off me apron that my mother gave for me eighteenth birthday. I put all the brushes in the jar with solvents and bring any order out of this chaos on my desk. Actually, I do not ever clean up in here. This is all my, my own little world. Only here I can hide.

Taking a glance on the canvas, I make sure that a customer will definitely like the painting with my bloody-red sunset. I never met him but he always orders my landscapes. He speaks only with my agent - Sarah. This time he asked for something matching my state of mind, nothing special.

Sarah will probably be at theexhibition tomorrow. It is so strange that I prepared for this event for twoyears, and, when the time came, I really do not care about it.