I am colour blind. My heart, like in black and white. Film flickering. Street lights, stage lights. The people, extras passing by. Through the window of a bar, a couple in love. A pretty girl everywhere. A glass of wine. Two, three. Voices from an open window on third. Slow, fast, slow, but without the music. A camera, a blurred photograph. Scribblings on the wall. No sense, nonsense. A night in black and white. A glass of black wine, like ink. It writes itself in colour as it keeps the rhythm. 120 bpm, inside. 60 outside. Putting on the mask for another 60. Faces and legs, the perfect picture. Painted over black and white.