Waxing Your Eyebrows After Tanning

gray

I open my eyes and lifted his head.
I sat bent over my chair in the room.
Everything around me has lost its color, everything is in shades of gray: the table, wardrobe.
Even myself: now that I look at my hands, I find to be in shades of gray.
the window I see: the world behind the glass is still in color.
I jumped up, ran to open it, I am facing: shades of gray.
closes it: the colors do not add up.
I want to go out and see.
through the house to earn the exit.
On the way I run into a mirror, I look: the veil of a beard gives me more in shades of gray.

go down the stairs and finish in the road.
I scan around, close to me is an old, also in shades of gray.
I look at him, looks at me, smiling, asked him:

"What has made the colors?"

"What?" I answered, laughing

"well, yellow, red for example,"

"and what do you do color? This is a tale in shades of gray. There are and even if there were anything you would not chains. "

In a story, I thought, We are a story. And I, old, everything that surrounds us and even my chair, my closet, are just words. Even the clouds are just words.
raise my head to look at them. I almost imagine them as spots of ink on the paper flow.
And me? What word am I? Maybe not even a word, maybe they are a punctuation mark.
But why a story should be in grayscale or color? It makes no sense.
Riabasso the head, the old is gone.

I'll scream:

"I understand, is not a story, is the reality we see in shades of gray because it seems that there is life, and so we accept it without doing anything to change it. For this shoot then become old and finally "

works like movies once this life, the shades of gray would only stimulate the imagination. And with our imagination we should give it color.