– Hello?
– Yes, go ahead.
– What are you up to?
– Nothing much.
– Oh, come on, you must be on Facebook or YouTube or something, right? People don’t just stay awake for no reason.
– I was just doing a bit of painting.
– Painting! You? You mean, like drawing? Really?
– Yes, you could say painting.
– Wow! Suddenly?
– I don’t know. Just felt like it. Hey, do you know what the color of life?
– Oh, here comes the philosophy. It’ll be something… red, blue, or yellow. Whatever fits the end of a poem to rhyme.
– No, I think the color of life is melancholy. Just as a canvas is white; on it, an artist uses brushes to mix red, blue, green, yellow to create a masterpiece. Without that, the canvas would remain white. Just like that, the color of life is melancholy.
– I’m hanging up now.
– You know, I really enjoy these evening and night times sometimes. All the lights off, sitting quietly in the dark. Childhood comes back to me. Memories. The good and the bad. Yet, everything somehow blends into melancholy. It feels like melancholy is the default feeling of life. Whether you live under a tree or possess the wealth of seven kings, we are always imbued with melancholy. We are all touched by it.
– I’m saying I’m hanging up now. You paint, write poems, whatever you like. I’ve got work.
– I am painting. I’ve laid out joy, happiness, love, affection, and pizza on the paint palette in front of me. With a thick brush, I’m coating over the canvas of melancholy. Will you paint with me? Then, in this canvas of 70 years by 24 hours, not a corner will be left void.
– Hanging up now. Bye.
