the sky has acquired the color of asheswith charcoal drawings of clouds,a colorless halo pretending to be the sunin a shadow of lead spreading over the Earth ...
the sea has the color of tinembroidered in white when finding the sandon beaches somewhere between cream and dirty white,mere sketch of amateur painter ...
trees and meadows carpeted in silverhanging on branches of dark zincwhile the restless wind shakes the leavestaking in the breeze the seed of doubt ...
Crowds mingle in streets and squaresin a symphony of an incredible variety of grays,oscillating to the taste of the unknowninvading cities and villages ...
the colors? Where are the colors?they call out the faded shadowsin a world without colors,like ghosts just imagined ...
the colors tired of believing,of loneliness, of hunger and of injustice,set out in search of a world and a timewhere color deserves to be ...
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