It was loud. People were rushing somewhere in a hurry, panic plastered on their faces. Irateting. Yes, of course. Someone is trying to sleep here! Alas, no one is paying atention to worries of neighbours.

There is a reason for all shades of colours. They create diversety, meaning. A plant statue carved out of marble radiates with white aura. Sorrounded with greenery it would be a blessing to the eyes. That would have been a natural course of events and yet the current picture is a far cry from pleasing. Elegant, smooth white statue resides in equally white room. The walls are covored with carved in ornaments, floor polished, on the ceiling hangs a white nobelmans chandelier. There are no windows only racesses that represent them. Otherwise gallant room is submerged in only one colour: white. Light of the room coupled with endless whiteness is like thousand upon thousands of needles piercing the eyes. The pain would chase away any ordinary person, but there, on one white bench in white suit and black sunglasses sits an elderly man. Eerie silince wrpas around him. Chill in the air cuts through his lungs. Unmoving like a stute.

" Hello. Bonjour. Здраво. こんにちは. 你好..."

It was a sudden, cheery boys voice; that is if one was to ignore the fact that that same voice said greetings in every language possible on earth. Akin to the bane of crippling whiteness next to the old man stand a boy of ten clad in black. Black shorts & short sleeved shirt. Black hair of middle lenght, deep blue eyes and in contrats to the old mans healthy brown skin white skin that would worry the whole world. Plastered on his face is a smile, mischievous and carefree.

The old man did not react to the variety of greetings, nor to the boys appearance; he didn't even turn his head.

" Good day to you boy, what are you doing in a place like this? "                                                                                           " That is what I should be asking you gramps. Are you observing my sisters paintings? You'll have to remove those shades to apreciate all colours ya know. Or is it cuz of the lighting? Ah, I'll pull them down! "

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The little one with light, fast steps ran to to the floating, framed paintings which crystal clearly did not exist only moments ago. With a "Hop" his bare feet seperated from the tiles. His slender hands reached white, carved frames and pulled them downwards. Once more, tird time and now they were floating on the hieght of a childs torso. A satisfied smile floated on the deathly pale face. Clapping his hands together he gave a strong nod.

" Job well done if I say so myself; I do say so myself. Oh, you can take off those shades now. "

" Boy, I am blind "

Suddenly all pride and satisfaction evaporated from the young face, in their place suprise floats. Even faster than before the black silhouette circles around the bench. Stopping for a moment to wave to wave its hand in front of wrinkled face. To all of the there was not even a hint of reaction. Defeated, little one crashed on the bench. Arms and legs crossed. Eyes closed deep in thought. Moment, two... And then with new determination those deep blue eyes vigorously opened.

" I know! I'll describe those paintings so well that you'll see them even better in your mind than live! "

To the vigour strong enough to everturn a hundred year war old mans words were like a black hole.

" Boy, I was born blind "

Once again all that energy of only moments ago left that tiny body. Arms lifeless on the bench, legs unmoving, head and gargeous black strands of hair hang low. Weight named 'Doom' hangs on bent back. But the boy shall not give up! Once more determination fills the eyes of the deep sea. The back is straightend, head held high. Both arms in front of chest, hands clenched into fists.

" In that case I shall conjure up meaning and feelings! People always have trouble understanding sis's work so I have to explain. Sis always says that feelings are more important than appearance. This is the ultimate test! Fret not gramps! I shall give my soul and body only so you could relish in beatuy called art! "

With enthusiasm over nine-thousand the old man couldn't help but smile. Perhaps spending an hour or two with this youth migh turn out fun and enlightening.