Once there lived a mute little boy in the village of souls who painted his dreams.
Untouched by acrimony and free from obsessions. His paintings breathed with love and un-charred imagination. The village-folk admired his art, but didn't understand the power of his dreams; and the boy, devoid of voice, was unable to elucidate his efforts.
He just smiled and nodded with gloomy warm eyes.
And so the days went by…
Until one fine morning a bright little girl with the aura of life came to the village to witness the carnival of hope. Amidst the colors and the crowd, she saw the boy – drenched in his thoughts and lost in the daze. As he entailed his dreams, stroke after stroke onto the canvas.
The girl, intrigued by his solitude approached the boy. She stared and stared at his remarkable treasure of imagination, his art… his soul.
Unaware of her presence, the boy kept painting – scribbling his mind on the board.
The girl kept looking, until the boy finished his work and was amazed to find her gazing at his recent masterpiece with appreciating eyes. For a moment, the world made sense and then faded away. As the girl explained what she saw in the dream he had so beautifully illustrated. She saw his soul through his eyes, she understood the meaning of every color and every stroke weaved into the painting. She knew his pain.
And so the days went by…
The boy had found a voice.
A companion who explained to the world what he thought and dreamt.
They went from places to places, villages to villages, inspiring people of all ages. Happy was the boy, and happy was the soul…
The world of men is a wicked place… where what seems is hardly what happens. The boy could paint a thousand pictures to stir an array of emotions, but the little girl now craved a voice she could talk to. And so one fine morning, she left with the aura of life – disappeared into the carnival of hope, in search of a voice to talk to.
What happened to the boy after that? No one really knows, but it is said that the colors of his canvas engulfed his heart and the power of his pain… paved his path. Unknown to the world and away from the soul… he still lurks between the shadows of reality to seek what he had lost and cherish what he had found.
Obsession claimed the colors.
Untouched by acrimony and free from obsessions. His paintings breathed with love and un-charred imagination. The village-folk admired his art, but didn't understand the power of his dreams; and the boy, devoid of voice, was unable to elucidate his efforts.
He just smiled and nodded with gloomy warm eyes.
And so the days went by…
Until one fine morning a bright little girl with the aura of life came to the village to witness the carnival of hope. Amidst the colors and the crowd, she saw the boy – drenched in his thoughts and lost in the daze. As he entailed his dreams, stroke after stroke onto the canvas.
The girl, intrigued by his solitude approached the boy. She stared and stared at his remarkable treasure of imagination, his art… his soul.
Unaware of her presence, the boy kept painting – scribbling his mind on the board.
The girl kept looking, until the boy finished his work and was amazed to find her gazing at his recent masterpiece with appreciating eyes. For a moment, the world made sense and then faded away. As the girl explained what she saw in the dream he had so beautifully illustrated. She saw his soul through his eyes, she understood the meaning of every color and every stroke weaved into the painting. She knew his pain.
And so the days went by…
The boy had found a voice.
A companion who explained to the world what he thought and dreamt.
They went from places to places, villages to villages, inspiring people of all ages. Happy was the boy, and happy was the soul…
The world of men is a wicked place… where what seems is hardly what happens. The boy could paint a thousand pictures to stir an array of emotions, but the little girl now craved a voice she could talk to. And so one fine morning, she left with the aura of life – disappeared into the carnival of hope, in search of a voice to talk to.
What happened to the boy after that? No one really knows, but it is said that the colors of his canvas engulfed his heart and the power of his pain… paved his path. Unknown to the world and away from the soul… he still lurks between the shadows of reality to seek what he had lost and cherish what he had found.
Obsession claimed the colors.
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