Yellow is the colour of youth. It bursts forth from every corner of this bare room, touching the trees and holding the wooden floorboards together. It is the colour of sunlight: of the birth of spring, tickling your face as you wake up, announcing its own arrival, reminding you that it is here. Yellow is the colour of water hydrating every inch of your existence, of the rippled duvets that caress your body as you sink into a midday slumber, and the coffee that revives you as soon as you wake up. It is the colour that paper becomes when your fingertips trace over old journals, and the old songs you hum as you do so. Yellow is the colour of tote bags and adventures and wide-legged trousers – of cactuses and museum dates and childhood memories – of uncontrollable laughter and evenings spent indoors with friends, on the floor, eating pizza. It is the colour of unexpected conversations and friendships, the colour that takes care of you when the world becomes a little too much to handle, the colour that washes away who you were yesterday when you step into the shower. And when you die, yellow flowers will be there, to quietly and unobtrusively remind the world that you were once here, that you have lived a good life, and that you had chosen to paint it yellow.
Sadia Ahmed, 2018