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?

The world is a wide place where we stumble like children learning to walk. The world is a bright mosaic where we learn like children to see, where our little blurry eyes strive greedily to...

I try to grasp the colour of my blood and all I feel is life slipping through the colourless veins.