To The World, I Say This...

A young man walks a crowded city street.

He wears a loose-fitting, black t-shirt and worn blue jeans. This, of course, goes contrary to the many suits streaming on either side into and out of buildings. Buses and streetcars flash by and blow his unkept blonde locks about his face. His eyes turn from the bodies around him to his technology, a small device playing music in his large ebony headphones. A few taps and a new song plays. His step quickens as a grassy park slides into eyesight. Grey suits and grey faces give way to grass, flowers and trees in shades of grey. The world, even here, is in shadows for this youth. He steps onto the grass and after a few yards stops entirely.

The music volume goes up incrementally until his head vibrates with the lower tones of the music. As the music increases, colour creeps into the blades of grass, small flowers pop from the sea of green. His eyes feast on the banquet of colour that only the music provides him. The colours intensify. New colours, unknown to the real world, fill his vision as the music reaches its climax. Tears escape from young eyes holding an old soul. Neon hues join the greens, browns, and wildflower tones of his restored vision and vibrate with the electronic symphony in his ears.

The youth breathes in the mingled fresh and city air of the little oasis. An alarm pulses on his wrist, interrupting his reverent thoughts.

The volume of the music returns steadily to a lower volume. The world is once again bleached greys, void of the beauty the man has seen so few times in his life. Turning his back on the park, he rejoins the throng of city-dwellers. Colours die, tears dry, and colour becomes a distant delicacy.

If he's lucky, he'll live long enough to return to that place again.