The Power of Art By: yaman C. Ates

It was dark outside, it always is. For me anyway. I was born in the dark. I'm pretty sure that today is a sunny Tuesday. I have this 5 story luxury apartment all for myself. From what my radio told me, Germany was looking beautiful today.

My helper Janet came upstairs to my room to help me out. From what she has told me she is tall with brown eyes and hair. She is very nice. She gave me my clothes and told me what color they were. A red and black suit. It felt so very soft on the inside but hard on the outside.I wonder what red looks like. I always try to picture it.

It was just Janet and I in our apartment. It feels a little lonely sometimes. Sometimes I sit, in the darkness, trying to imagine what the world looks like.

When I was younger my dad used to explain colors to me. Blue was somber and dark. Red was fierce. I used to paint and my father gave me the colors. We made millions and my father gave most of it to pay for my eye surgeries to let me see. He had so many ideas for me and my stupid eyes. He was a truly extraordinary man.

I painted for him. Not for the money or the fame but for my father. Even though I was blind he helped me see. He explained how everything looked and moved. I do this art for my father.

Ever since my last painting people have changed taste in art. They've moved away from my style.

"I don't know what to do" I told Janet. "Es wird alles gut Adalwen. Sie sind ein großer Maler. Wenn poeple nicht so dann Schande auf ihnen denken!" "Janet..." I said slowly "It is not shameful if people do not like my art work. It is okay." Janet looked mad. "No it is not, sie sind ein großer Künstler!" "Janet it’s okay, I promise, I will figure something out.

"Mögen Sie bitte machen mich ein Salami-Sandwich" I was very hungry for a sandwich. When she brought it for me she put it in my hands. I brought it up to my mouth without smelling it, I trusted Janet. It was good. I left back to my room.

I hated being blind. You feel so secluded and locked out. It’s always blank. I started to cry. I didn't want Janet to hear me so I buried myself into my pillows. I always make up what things look like and people think I'm a… wait a second, I’M A GENIUS!

I get my paint brush and start painting. I imagine a fernesehen or television. I remember how my father used to explain it to me. After a month or so my pictures are up in the galleries all across Germany.

I can still imagine my father saying “Ich wusste, dass du es schaffst!” “I knew you could do it!”

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