Silence.

They say silence is golden.
The clock reminding me of its existence by its intended tick tock, the housefly humming around ; the periodic falling of water droplets from a damaged tap; the hollow murmering of crickets by the bushes, the frog liberating its melancholy cacophony ; my breath reminding me of life, every second giving me a second chance to live.
They say silence is golden.
But I say, silence is colourful.
That old memory which painted life with hues makes it colourful. That reminiscence locked up in the closet makes it colourful. That warm touch that made cheeks change it colour, makes it colourful. Those enumorous emotions in the heart and wars with the brain, makes it colourful.
They say silence is golden. But I say, it's colourful. 

-Ashita.