The Artist
His life was now routine, day after day, night after night; to the exact second. He spent hours in his small studio painting away at the blank white canvas and like clock work every 5 minutes he sang a little bar "I paint with the colors you'll never see." From time to time people would come, to watch and observe this genius at work - they'd often question where is the painting to which he replied, "I paint with the colors you'll never see." They all began to wonder if he had gone mad, for they saw nothing; nothing at all. He would not be distracted or taken from his work, the rest of the world took a back seat ride in his drive into madness. Gently he made his final stroke, again saying "I paint with the colors you'll never see." and then a brief pause, "for these are the colors of my life, no one will ever see them again." He pulled out a gun and shot himself in the head. There he was lying dead on the floor next to his masterpiece, the white canvas.