Note: This is a little excerpt from a short story I'm currently pretending to write. It's called "Technicolour Life", and is about a young man who wants to make a film in black and white. Given my track record, the story may never be completed, so I'm putting this bit up here.
Green (with envy, when another woman pays me a compliment), pink (look how the colour rushes into her cheeks!), yellow (when she had jaundice, of course), almond brown (her eyes, oh, her eyes, are they the colour of lies?), silver (subtle treasure on that hook nose, underground manna for this believing miner), white (expertly concealed when I'm reading her my poetry), golden (the colour of warmth, and also destruction in daylight).
Technicolour is my strife, technicolour is my life.