I brushed my hair out of my eyes just enough to see the canvas in front of me. White. Empty. Colorless. What would it become? What could it become? I let my imagination run wild with the possibilities this blank canvas held within its pool of white.
White is such a boring color. The color of purity, innocence, perfection. As a child I loathed it. Every white space had to be filled. I vividly remember the spankings I received as punishment for coloring on the walls. I've grown to realize that white may be boring, but it is the color of possibility. All art has to start somewhere.
YOU ARE READING
I Bleed Colors
Teen FictionThey say black is the absence of all color. But black is filled with color, you just need a light to see it.
