He says what he thinks and writes his thoughts without fear. He glances up from his desk and notices similar writing stations all around his. Desks of every fashion with busy individuals hard at work can be seen as far as the eye can see. It is an amazing image.
He picks up his pen once more, but then he notices a box of colored pencils on his desk. Upon inspection it seems everyone has colored pencils as well. What are they coloring? He wonders as he begins to write again, but now he is distracted and frustrated. Finally he gets up to go see what he is missing.
As he walks in between the countless rows of desks he beholds a wonder. He watches as the writers, nameless beings, begin to color their words. But it is not the words that they are coloring, it is in fact their own opinions that they are fashioning. It is a miraculous occurrence happening in front of his eyes. He cannot break his vision apart from what he now beholds because it feels as if a gift or an answer is being given to him. And yet he struggles to grasp it. It is maddening, as if an answer is on the tip of his tongue waiting to be spoken… and then vanishes.
He scurries to his desk, passion enflamed, and is enthused to share his own opinions. And as he sits down at his desk to color the world he opens his box of colored pencils and dumps them onto his desk. They are all the same color… gray. The writer cries.