A dream full of colors. Ayza

      Chapter 1.

      At what point in our life does a dream come to us? At what point do we realize what we want to live for? What is the meaning of my life? Someone is still wandering among the countless stars to finally find their way. Someone, having found their brightly shining star, cannot follow it, while someone is not afraid, step by step goes to the light. What kind of person are you? Are you the one who confidently follows your star or are you still wandering among those stars? Will these stars go out forever? Somewhere among this innumerable number of stars lives a girl whose heart has not yet been illuminated by light, every day she painted beautiful pictures with the colors that she saw around her. She is full of emotions and feelings. The whole world for her is a wonderful magical place that amazes every day with its bright colors and wonders. Every day she discovers the different colors of this world.

      The palette of paints is filled with many different colors every day. The girl grows up, meets different people, but all those whom she meets have sad gray eyes. One day, a girl was standing in the middle of a hill, where the boy soon came. He was silent and melancholy, his eyes were just as empty. The girl did not understand what he was, there were no answers to all the questions that she asked him. The girl continued to paint her pictures and out loud to describe everything that she paints, how beautiful the bright red flowers, the blue sky, green trees, how beautiful the brightly shining stars are. She showed him her most beautiful paintings, but in response the boy was only silent and looked with empty lifeless eyes. The girl and the boy often met at the hill, where the girl told him every time about the colors of the world, showing her beautiful drawings.

      But all she heard in response was – I don’t understand what you’re talking about, I don’t see those bright colors that you paint, I don’t see the blue sky, bright red flowers, those beautiful trees with green foliage, I don’t see it. Enough, stop talking about it. Stop shaking my heart.

      – You can not see? Then I’ll show you!

      Look, that tree behind you, how beautiful its green foliage is, look at this big blue sky, which shimmers with different colors, there are so many colors of blue, pink, white, yellow. And these red flowers are in front of us, what a wonderful scent they have, can you not feel it?

      – No, for me this is a tree, this is the sky and these flowers, everything is gray and dark in color and I do not feel the smell of flowers you are talking about. Having said these words, the boy ran away.

      The girl sat down on the grass, carefully examining her drawing, they don’t see, they don’t understand how much I show. Suddenly, a butterfly appeared in front of the girl, her wings were painted blue and light blue. The girl pulled her hand towards the butterfly, barely touching its wings. The butterfly sat on the girl’s finger and began to fly with its wings, as if wanting to show its beautiful colors.

      – You are a beautiful butterfly, your wings remind me of the night sky full of stars, if only others could see you. I so want to show them how beautiful everything is around, but no one can make out this wonderful view, these bright colors. No matter how much you look at them, there is no light in their eyes, they are completely empty, as if completely lifeless. Why is that? I do not understand. Am I a strange butterfly? I speak and see colored paints that others cannot see. They think I’m saying strange things. I don’t want to be weird, but nobody wants to be friends with me because I talk a lot about things that they don’t see. My pictures are empty for them. I’m so lonely. Can you hear me butterfly? If only you could speak, you would understand me. Flapping its blue-blue wings, the butterfly flew away and gradually disappeared into the palette of colors.

      “I hope you’ll come and listen to me,” the girl shouted at the butterfly. And again I am alone. Days passed, but the butterfly did not come again. The boy from the hill never came there again.

      – He does not come because I am talking about strange things, no one comes to me. Nobody will look at my drawings. I don’t want people to think I’m weird, I’m not going to talk about colors anymore. Please don’t leave anymore.