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Love, colors and a little light

Burano is a freshly bought unused color palette. On first sight, one

might think the city to be a victim of the outrage of the goddess Iris,

who in a fit of rage hurled all the pretty colors of her rainbow at the

city. Petite three-storeyed buildings are neatly lined in a row and

colored with the loveliest shades of green, yellow, red, blue and other

pretty colors. Well-trimmed potted plants bedecked the balconies; I

almost envisaged lovely women waving at us, their laughter as soft as

tinkling bells. The boats there jibed beautifully. As if not wanting to be

left out, they were also splashed with the same style of colors. Soft rays

of the sun reflected off the brilliant houses. The matte brown

cobble-stoned and winding streets contrasted well with the fulgent colors.

Ruminations stormed in my head in a colorful whirlwind. The bright

yellow umbrella above my head reminded me of Wordsworth’s

daffodils. Ten thousand saw I before my eyes. The blue rebounded off

the three-storeyed house on the other side of the canal that snaked

through the thronging place. It reminded me of Tennyson’s Brook. It

slipped and slid and gloomed and glanced in my mind. As various poets

and their poems fleeted in my head, a sudden sense of tranquility took

over me. The past and future floated out of my brain. I let the

chromatic vista consume. All I could think was how bewitching the

realm of imagination could be. A beautiful mind blossomed within me.

Achieving nirvana wasn’t such an elephant task.

All that was required

was love, colors, and a little light.

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