THE STORY begun in the Blue City. It should be blue, but soon after the first words were born, rain drops wanted to wash them away and the Story had to be hidden under the umbrella with two women.
The Story was made from such stuff as dreams are made on – invisible and colorless. The two woman could not see her, but the Story could hear memories of their souls, which before settled in the Blue City traveled like gypsies through time and space for a long time. Their colorful aura was made from stolen colors of life.
They stole light yellow color from name of God written on Ottoman miniatures in illuminated gold letters. The darker light yellow color was brought to India from Persia by Mughal emperors. The light orange color belonged once to Sannyasin, who did his penance in the forest. The dark orange color was color of Shiva’s tapa worshiped by pilgrims. The shades of red color reflected blood spilled in wars they fought. The blue color was color of new horizont stolen from sapphires. The green color was color of hope and prosperity covering body of Goddesses. And the purple color was feather of fantasy bird which gave them wings to fly…
Women were laughing in the rhythm of birds mantras, secret language, which has a power to bring Gods on the Earth. The god Sun’s ray of light was sent to Blue City. The Story took the ray of light, mixed drops of rain with colors of women’s aura and begun to draw.
Line by line, all the shades of memories like rainbow covered white paper. The women were caught in the moment… and only touch of the Artist can release them and the Story will start again somewhere else…
Text: Zuzana Zwiebel
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