Colors of the past; here-upon this secluded hill I stand with my tender heart, for I have a complaint against your art. Why is your art so abusive to my innocent eyes, is not art purposed to feed the eye that gazes upon it with delight, why is your painting a violation to my peace. Do you seek prestige through belittling my quest as a creature made up of mortal particles. If you are less desirous to change your colors, then I will not wait upon you any longer, for I will invent my own colors to undo your disfigured art.
Author: Refioe Mooi
