I can’t understand that, he wrote. You’re wonderful. So full of life and excitement. The priests and servants of the palace, they wear colors, but there’s no color inside of them. They just go about their duties, eyes down, solemn. You’ve got color on the inside, so much of it that it bursts out and colors everything around you. She smiled. “That sounds like BioChroma.” You are more honest than BioChroma, he wrote. My Breath, it makes things more bright, but it isn’t mine. It was given to me. Yours is your own.
