She stands behind the curtain, always concealed; It takes her shape where she stands, only revealing her feet. I ask her questions, she answers me; the other times, she barely speaks. Is she naked? Is she scarred? The secrets are openly buried. Not one step forward, not one behind, she’s in the shadows, scarily quiet….

The papers were white, embodying the light, reflecting minds; The thoughts were dark, like shadows lurking behind; Words were rainbow; in those colours hides our life.