Was it the case that colours dimmed as the eye grew elderly? Or was it rather that in youth your excitement about the world transferred itself onto everything you saw and made it brighter?

Sometimes I can see colour without opening my eyes. I saw that Billy’s heart was no colour and every colour. Like water or diamonds or crystals, it’s pure and reflects the light.

If Bacchus ever had a color he could claim for his own, it should surely be the shade of tannin on drunken lips, of John Keat’s ‘purple-stained mouth’, or perhaps even of Homer’s dangerously wine-dark...

Lightning hides the colour of night

Jibu nilichokuuliza. Utajibu, hutajibu?””Nitajibu.””Usipojibu?””Nitajipaka rangi, ya pinki.” Murphy hakumwelewa.”Utanifanya chochote utakachotaka.””Mmenigundua vipi?” Murphy aliuliza akirekebisha suruali.

Would you dare to reach inside the vault of a feral heart?Glare into the keyhole, eyes bound with intrigue…is it real what we perceive? or does the absent colour leave you lost or decieved?