COLORS OF THE QUIET (Micro-stories)

Foreword

When I was a little girl, you would often find me drawing elaborate pieces of ‘art’ in the sand, on the school blackboard when no one was looking, or at times, I was roped in to draw dozens of ‘flash cards’ for my school teacher for the kindergarten classes. Even back then, I knew that art connected people.

Coming from a humble background where we hardly had much, the feeling of ‘being connected’—even to the most privileged kids in school—through my art was something I learned early in life. Art became my way of reaching out, of bridging gaps that words sometimes couldn’t.

As a visual artist, I’ve always felt that art is more than just what meets the eye—it’s a language of the soul, a quiet way we connect without words. This story, Colors of the Quiet, captures that feeling for me. It’s about how simple, small moments of creativity can bridge distances between people, even strangers, and bring light into their lives.

Elara and Prem’s silent exchange through their art reminds us that sometimes, it’s the little things—hidden, unexpected—that carry the deepest meaning. As artists, we have the power to touch lives in ways we don’t always realize. I hope this story inspires you to look closely and find those moments of connection all around you.

Morning's Kiss- Acrylic on canvas by Lyia Meta

The Colors of the Quiet

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Elara was a street artist who loved painting small, hidden murals in quiet corners of her bustling city—beneath temple archways, behind colorful market stalls, even along narrow alleyways lined with paper lanterns. For her, art wasn’t about grand displays, but about moments of gentle discovery.

One early spring afternoon, as she was setting up her paints near a busy tea house, she noticed a man who often sat on a wooden bench nearby. His name was Prem, a soft-spoken man who rarely spoke, watching the crowds with quiet, thoughtful eyes.

One day, as Elara painted a tiny, vibrant butterfly on the underside of the bench’s wooden slats—right where Prem usually rested his hands—she whispered softly, “Maybe a little color will brighten your day.”

Days later, when she came back, she found a folded piece of rice paper tucked beneath the bench. Curious, she opened it to find delicate ink drawings of butterflies, each one unique, signed simply “P.”

Touched, Elara smiled to herself and left another tiny painting—a small cluster of cherry blossoms this time—near the spot. A few days passed before she found another drawing in return.

Their silent exchange grew. Prem’s drawings became more detailed, and Elara’s paintings grew more vivid. The quiet tea house corner had become a secret conversation between two souls.

One morning, Elara spotted Prem sitting a little straighter, a soft smile resting on his lips. As she approached, he looked up and said quietly, “Your butterflies... they remind me to look closer, to see beauty in small things.”

Elara nodded, her own smile gentle. “Sometimes, the smallest colors can carry the biggest feelings.”

The city hummed with life all around them, but in their quiet corner, two strangers had found connection—without words, without hurry—through simple, unexpected art.

by Lyia Meta