Are you afraid to return because you think I'll ask you to stay? But I always knew that nothing could hold you. I never even tried. Your mind is a mass of confused unbridled silver wires. And you electrify everyone on the way as you go along. With your mad angry stories and your lost grey eyes. When I paint in a single colour, it makes me feel guilty. Like I'm insulting your memory. But i cannot paint in white. That's more your thing, isnt it? "I like you because you're a red cloud" you had said.
You're the sky. Blue, purple, grey, white. Always stormy, always quiet. And always free. I think the doorbell rang. What do you paint these days? Red roses white?