“Look at the colors.” Thats what the boy said to his mother. “I love the July 4th” he said. “There like drawings in the sky. Some red some blue some purple. Every color you can imagine. Some make noise others are quieter. I wish I could draw on the sky.” From that day on this boy drew on his blue wall. Day after day after day. Each day the drawings got bigger and bigger. Until when he was about 6 years old. Just going into kindergarten. His walls were a magnificant collage of colors. Symetrical yet different. A masterpiece worthy of The Leuve. But this boy grew up. And as he grew up he moved into the basement. He became a bagboy. He forgot his once artistic ways. Then in his high school years. He came and went. Seldom stayed. Then he went off to college. Became a big city lawyer. Years passed,mom still owned the house. Then one day he broke his leg. He went back to his mom’s house. He stayed in the room which was once his to call home. And for those six weeks he was reminded of his artistry.And he loved it.