When the light hits the eye

The gray sky meets the colorful planes that fly so close to each other due to space limitations. The masks people wear on the streets is almost as welcoming as the masks we use so naturally in social life. Blue. Red. Purple. All over the streets. I still find myself locked in my studio from time to time, even though what I love the most about life is seeing the colors mixing in front of me. Sometimes I wonder how nice it would be to open a window and maybe have a nice view. Just a view at all would be great. In times like this, it’s so hard to meet people, everybody hides in the shadows of pollution and covers themselves with the ashes of what was once a beautifully set of colors. It’s nice. It’s very nice to look at my grandparents lives through the stories they’ve told me a while ago. Trees... and waters that change color when the sun hits them in a different angle. Sand and... waves that move perfectly in sync with the sound of the wind. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to see any of that. Neither will my kids. Maybe their kids. At least, I still have the colors and, for the yellows and oranges and all the possible combinations, I’m grateful.