colors and strokes

I chance upon one foreign artist's collection of works and found myself speechless. It was silence out of overwhelming owe, yes. But it's much more.
I was stiffened by the realization that there are just so many things that used to enjoy doing. I had a fascination with colors, hues, shapes, lines, curves and shadows.
The collection reminded me of a little girl who spent hours and hours with a set of crayons and her mother's used bond papers. There was even one time when the little locked herself in her all for one whole day in all tears when mom refused to buy her a set of oil pastels. She's the kind of girl who'd use all her convincing powers to turn an afternoon of playtime with friends an art session. She drew all her experiences and thoughts. She drew her emotions, her sadness, her joy, her longings, her dreams, her pain, her losses. She created her world, a world of colors and shapes that contain her being.

As I stare at the little girl's hands, now that they've grown into a woman's, i can't believe what I see. The nails that always has a pigment or two in now so tidy. Well, it's not the neatness now that matters although the manicure sessions were regularly planned.

The little grew as a woman. But she's no longer herself. She has lost the colors and hues that used to brighten her innocence.