As you pass me a note, with a purple hue, your hands fly and you ask me what color the music is. In return my fingers fly, fast like an aura of light blue.

Light music is the prettiest of pastels. Hard rock is a vibrant, dark color. It’s heavy and thick. Good music flows like purple rain or a rainbow of wind. It’s like deep blue waves crashing into the sunset shore.

With fingers flying I try to explain all this to you. How everything has a color. Different notes, different bands, each have a color. Letters and numbers have a color. I hear color and see sound. It’s an amazing ability to have, a gift.

As I explain this to you I start thinking. What’s it like to have silence all around you? I ask, fingers moving like a bright orange blur. Is it interesting? Is it sad? Is it special? Is it like my gift for colors and sounds and senses being messed up?

We each have our quirks, our interesting abilities. So as her fingers dance away I see the color around her. I love what makes us unique. I love our worlds.