She gets out of bed. The world is grey.
As her feet quietly slip into a skirt and tights, the world is blue.
After her shirt is on and hair is done, the world morphs into red.
She picks up the notebook and the world is purple.
The headphones go on, and suddenly a rainbow explodes into her vision.
Feeling the rhythm, mesmerized by the sound and passion.
The house fades behind her as she walks up the street, feet pounding the pavement to the beat.
She takes out a pencil and opens her notebook.
As she starts writing, the rainbow pours into the marks and becomes words dancing on the page.
Writing love, writing sorrow.
Writing pain, writing joy.
A
YOU ARE READING
A Never-ending Circle
Lãng mạnShe. Just she. She exists among whispers and sounds. She exists among colors and time. Who is she?
