Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Switzerland Sky

It is a generally accepted idea that everybody has a favourite colour. Therefore it must logically follow that everybody has seen that colour before, at some point.

I hadn't, until this morning.

When I was nine years old, my mum bought a house. We moved in over the summer and started doing simple renovations. First, we replaced the sad-looking brown carpets with clean white tiles. Next, we wanted to paint the walls. To start fresh.

"What colour are you thinking of, dear?"
"It's hard to explain, mum."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want just one colour. I want a colour made up of many colours."
"Well it's a bit difficult to do that. Can't you just choose from what we have here in the booklet?"
"But it's not here."

Anthony had already picked the paint he wanted: a dark, serious blue. But I remember spending hours poring over pamphlets from the hardware store containing rainbows of swatches, ripples of tiny coloured squares that went from jet black to emerald green to butter yellow to pure white. I would run my finger over the purpley-bluey-pinkey section if there was one, but could never find exactly what I had in mind. I settled for a light shade of lavender in the end.

I am now twenty-two years old. I painted my room thirteen years ago. And this morning, as the plane was flying away from Paris over Switzerland, I turned away from my movie so I could look out the window.

There, in front of me, was the colour I had wanted.

Laid out over the earth was the exact hue of purple I'd imagined: fresh, light and so alive that you could almost hear it breathing. It melted into a soft, baby blue, the colours dissolving so perfectly that your eyes would get lost in them. Then, the best part: a layer of rose petal pink that sighed along the curve of the earth, touching both ends of the sky with its fingertips. I sat with my forrid against the freezing glass, mesmerized, drinking it, filling my eyes with it.

Too often, we let others convince us that what we see in our mind can never exist.

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