I’m lying on the bathroom floor in a fetal position , my head is leaning against the Persian blue tiles. I’m trying to take in all the warmth from the heated flooring but the inner coldness doesn’t seem to break; it’s like a February mountain lake that has been covered by too much snow.
I turn around to rest on my back on the arabesque blue and white bathroom mat.
It’s dark in the room and outside, I look up to the slanted ceiling, and a part of the white paint is illuminated by the reflection of the neighbour’s garden lamps. For a second I take a rest from the pain, from the crying and the emptiness is filled by that irradiated small polygone of white colourant. It reflects inside and a part of me feels that glow, the current goes through my wires and I can see again through my watery eyes.
Seconds later, though, the switch is flipped off.
I am left on the floor remembering through the dark the vibrant hues of blue.