I find a wall, painted black.  And buried within these five hundred shades,  a yellow.  So, if I asked, could you imagine? Could you imagine my amazement, as I speculated upon this yellow?

Of the thousand eyes that have stood here. I wonder if they too, knew this yellow?  Or is it my secret? And lo, amazement once more!  A yellow, for me to see, and mine to keep!

Maybe you are amused by the size of this yellow. It is miniscule of course, a mere spec upon a massive structure. But may I, if you let me, just say. It is the sole warmth on so many seasons of winter.

I could drown myself in black, and find myself gasping for breath on the surface of this yellow. I wish to wander deeper into it. And as I go, will I find a reason for this contrast in colour? Is there a wonderland beneath the surface and the yellow, its invitation?

I have, over the past month frequented this wall. Not much has changed. It is as uninviting as it was yesterday. Just as harsh, just as cold. But to me, there are, upon five hundred yellows, a black.

For beyond the surface, I found you.