I come into a stationery shop to buy some paper. I like choosing it: pink, blue, with decorations on its margins, with ornament, matt or glossy paper.

But for you I always choose white. It's like a snowy field appealing to print everything you want.

I choose appropriate time, that special minutes or hours, so that not to be interrupted, so that nobody could break this flow of my thoughts belonging only to you.

I start my greeting and golden ray slides along the line.

My easy narration contains a little fun, some funny facts from my life, joyful questions to you - lilac background, so unpretentious.

The colour of tenderness 1s aquamarine, it captures my writings step by step, word by word.

Have hardly noticed the first sign of passion - the scarlet flash, one more and more and again; my cheeks start burning like on fire...

My dreams are broken by one obliging thought - 1t was, 1t WAS...but finished .. The last sparks of fire are of a crimson tint.

I ask nothing now, I write to you, and this blue canvas should be calming for you.

If I had only a tiny drop of hope, it would be yellow in colour. But I don't have yellow paint anymore.

Instead of that I offer you some green - the colour of peace, good wishes and neutral relationships, vapid l1ke leaves of lettuce.

Though my farewell greeting is in golden as usual.

***

A letter. Again her long letter. So long, so confusing. Always complicated feelings, why? Yes, I liked it before, but not now .
Boring. Bored. Bothered.

And where does she always take such faded paper?