Undressing this morning- My favorite color

The clock is striking 6 in the morning and I don’t have a clock in my room. My eyes are red and pale or would you believe me if I say that the color they have at the moment is grayish blueish green. My hair have transformed into a puzzle that can’t be solved at this time of the morning and would you believe me if I say that the color they have is reddish blondish brown. But they appear black in the mirror and I have been trying to figure it out.  The color of my skin is brownish pinkish yellowish white and I don’t want you to believe it. I am wearing a white T-shirt that features my artwork on it and I only wear it when I’m alone. Sitting with my legs crossed on my bed and setting hands on my iPad, I’m trying not to sleep so that I may attend a class at 8. My bed sheet appears to be green in color, my blanket goes for red and the room walls are painted as off white. I usually don’t like any color more than black and white as I believe that beauty of these two colors is absolute. Would you believe me if I say that black is poetic and how do you imagine a poet? In a bright yellow jacket? Absolutely not.

I look outside my window, and the trees are dressed in green and the sky is blue with slight shades of white. But I think I won’t interfere in colors of nature because they entirely form the beauty. My eyes get back to inside view of my room and I think of people. I have started to think very clearheaded that people is what colors can’t define, may be they have painted themselves in so many colors. Silver in the morning and grey when the sun goes away, and while it stays up, I guess they honor to get painted in the diversity of all five primary colors.

I don’t remember the last time I answered a question about my favorite color except the time when my teacher asked me about it. I responded with the color of water in the glass I was holding and I was asked to leave the class. May be I was punished but I meant it. And all the colors I have inside, haven’t been invented yet.  May be I’ll write about them one day or may be I won’t.

Tell me. Have you ever heard a peacock sing? Hold your ear to this mystical stone and you will hear. You will hear sacred hymns flowing to the vibrations of the perfumed wind. And then I wonder that even wind has no color.