“Let me tell you about my day” the woman wearing the pink robe, the grey stockings and the extravagant hat says to me. She seems exhausted and as I pull up a chair facing the blue meridian she sits comfortably, spreading her legs out, and setting her long fine arms onto the velvet fabric. Her salient eyes express an agitation that she is attempting to hide. Is she excited to tell me about her day or to just have me in front of her?
As she takes a first deep breath and dives into the narration of her story, I stare at the movements of her mouth and then contemplate the rest of her face, body, and outfit. The clothes she sports don’t match her small angular figure. Her dress, hat and shoes are disproportionate to her petite silhouette. She is so tiny; I wonder if food ever passes her lips. Of course it must, how else would she have so much energy?
As the flow of words she recites sink into my mind, I set my gaze on the colour tones enveloping her like a precious treasure. The navy blue, cement grey, and rose candy are in conversation with the orange, bright yellow and pistachio of the background. I can hear her voice but I mostly get lost in the variations of hues at play around this little woman, when she interrupts my train of thought; “Now please, tell me about your day”.