Whitey only wears white no matter where he goes.
Maybe it was because of this name given by his parents,
Which made this twenty something young man
So fond of white,
And in particular clothes in white.
White is not an easy colour to handle.
Garments in white are easy to get dirty, and might turn yellow over time.
But he believes that the simpler the colour, the more explicit the textures of the fabric can be expressed.
Linen, silk, thick, fluffy,
With differences in materials, thickness, cutting and techniques,
Would project different expressions.
No matter what others’ say,
He just loves wearing white.
Winter comes, and everyone in the city
Takes out their black coats from their closets.
But he thinks, when the whole city turns black,
Wouldn’t it be very dull?
So he imagines himself as a piece of cloud
Always in white, he floats in different corners of the city
And randomly breaks into people’s scenery.
Cloud is not without colour,
White is the mixture of all colours.
In transformation,
It flows and floats,
And stays in this city of indefinite possibility.