It was a normal morning.
The sun shines brightly, illuminating the world as I woke up. I stretched out my body to relieve the weariness that piles up after hours of sleep. I wished my mom and dad a good morning before I ate my breakfast which consists of a toast and a glass of milk. After that I walked to the school. I like walking, rather than taking a car. I can move at my own pace, or move faster to feel the morning breeze as if it is alive. I can take time to appreciate and feel what a different day today is from yesterday with the lively chatter from my classmates and neighborhood as my morning song. Just feeling the warmth of sunlight upon my face.
Ah. Funny how I never really paid attention at how livid this world is before I went to that place.
Then again, who said that place was not a livid place also?

"Morning." I smiled a bit as I slid the classroom door to close and went to my seat as the bell rang. Just in time, like always. I replied to my friend chattering to me as she excitedly said what happened to her yesterday. I like finding out about people. Their thoughts, their stories, their expressions. I noticed my habit ever since I was a little girl. I don't talk much, but maybe that's what makes other people like to talk to me. Because I listened. No matter how absent-minded I look like.
"Are you listening to what I said?"
He always asked me that. I smile in reminiscence as I looked beyond the window.

Mr. L walked in not long after the bell rings as he said good morning in enthusiastic voice. The first subject today is literature. I like art. Every form of art there is.
I like literature too. Because to me, literature is another form of art, a blank canvas that you can have anywhere, written down by any method you like, painting down what you feel, expressing what you feel with just words that everyone knows, yet just by sitting and reading those words.. your life can change. I think literature have the same impact to me as looking to the paintings. Although I have to spend more time reading everything rather than directly jumping down to an artist mind. Quite.

I listened and took down some theory notes about writing an essay. After the theories, we get into the creative writing assignments, my favorite part. Mr. L will write several prompts to write and we can choose the one that's most interesting one for us to write about. I can't wait to see what Mr. L choose for the topics, every time we have Mr. L class he always have a new and fresh ideas for us to write, and that's just one of the things that I like about his class. I rolled up my shirt sleeve as I picked up my pencil after he wrote down the five topics that we can choose today.

I looked up to the white board, and my eyes widened in surprise. A topic that I never thought would have even crossed Mr. L's mind. A topic that most people won't even blink another eye for. But to me, it hit me like an arrow that fiercely stabbed the apple on your head.

Which painting would you like to be able to step into and spend a day inside? Why that one? Explain your choice then describe your day.

For you see, I had stepped into-more like jumped down a painting of an abyss before. And spend a day. For reasons I don't even know why. Describe it? More like put it in floods of words and emotions.
...you don't believe me? Well, let's just say that I made up a tale about a girl with red rose and a man with blue rose inside the world of paintings where a yellow rose girl resides.
More vivid than any dreams beyond imaginations and yet more bizarre than reality of imaginations itself.

I smiled as I looked down to my paper.
Today, I don't even have to spend time thinking about what to write.
After all, I already have a good start to write down my tale.

"Do you know of an artist named Guertena..?"