She noticed people always looked down. They looked down in their expressionless suits while they walked to their offices full of dissension. They rudely looked down while talking, whether on their phones or with someone they were walking with. She figured most of them could have very well memorized the pattern of the sidewalk they walked on every day- the same grey, expressionless concrete.
The paint was hard to find, but she purchased some in every bright hue imaginable; red, blue, gold, green, pink, orange, purple, and her favorite, yellow. By the illumination of the halogen streetlights, every night on one square she splashed color on the sickly grey cement. She painted vivid scenes of suns and flowers, twined leaves, dancing elves, and hopscotch squares. For a whole block, color reigned. Then the city said the sidewalk was defaced; workers were sent with paint remover. The next day, the sidewalk was the same color that it had been before, but the people walking on it were slightly different. Ghosts of a smile flickered across their faces as they remembered the echoes of the vibrant designs.
 Attingere · Sun Jan 28, 2007 @ 02:56pm · 0 Comments |
