by Janina

'Revolution is the only solution' she once read on a grey wall high up in the grey sky of a grey German city.
Even the graffiti itself appeared grey. Grey like your voice. Grey like the days when her mind was fully absorbed by her work.
Grey and rough, constantly moving, digging, digging in the dust to find the way blindly. The grey voice still there. Somewhere.
Where?
Yes, there is colour around, colour in her heart, in her room, even in her thoughts.
It needs no competition with the grey sky, for the colour is always there.
Can you see it?