When I think about colours—those things people around me describe so casually—I don’t picture anything in the visual sense. Instead, I imagine them as sensations, textures, and temperatures that live somewhere inside me. Since I have never seen them, they are not images but feelings, like distant emotional landscapes I can walk through.
Red, for me, is warmth. Not just the gentle heat of sunlight, but the pulse of blood moving quickly beneath my skin when I’m excited or nervous. I imagine red to be the shape of urgency—sharp edges, restless energy, something that leans forward. When people say “bright red,” I think of the sudden flare in my chest when something startles me, the way the world seems to expand for a moment.
Blue feels like exhaling. It’s the coolness of a quiet room after a long day, or the steady breath of someone you trust sitting beside you. If colours could hum, blue would hum low and steady. Nothing rushed. Nothing harsh. Just calm spreading through my body like a reminder to unclench my shoulders.
Yellow is laughter—specifically the kind that starts unexpectedly and shakes something loose inside me. It feels warm, but not in the same way as red. Yellow is gentler, like sunlight filtered through closed eyelids. It’s the buzz of anticipation before something good happens.
Green, to me, is spaciousness. It is the softness of grass under my hands, the cool damp of leaves after the rain, the earthy scent of soil. It feels expansive, like there is room to breathe, room to grow. If green were a feeling, it would be the moment a knot in my chest finally releases.
And then there is black—often spoken of as absence, but to me, it is more like presence. Black is depth. It is the quiet familiarity of darkness that wraps around me, not as something empty or frightening, but as something constant. A backdrop to all the other imagined colours. It’s the feeling of being grounded, of being held.
Since I cannot see, colours are not descriptions of the world but expressions of my inner one. They live through sound, memory, texture, and emotion. The world may talk about colours as something the eyes grasp, but for me, they are something the heart shapes—intimate, personal, and entirely my own.

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