What exactly are colors?

Are they the deepest, most sincere and pigmented feelings? Are they words that are unable to be expressed that have turned into nothing but a smudge on a page? Or are they most simply nothing but nature’s materials grinded up into a fine, vivid dust?

To the art major Kim Jongin they were all of that and more.

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He sat there, on a lonesome bench in the park surrounded by trees and chirping birds, eyes on the blank page in front of him. The possibilities were endless. If only he were to reach into his bag, pull out a color and draw… But he couldn’t do that just yet. With all of the tools littered in his bag, he couldn’t bring himself to construct a new picture. Even his mind, laden with thoughts and emotions, would not be of any use. He was set on something right now, and that something was colors.

He lifted his color-blotted hand, bringing it to the edge of the left page in his sketch book and brushing it over the smooth texture for a moment. Afterwards, he thumbed back a page, his eyes now falling upon his hand drawn color wheel. It was nothing too complex as it was just the three basic primary colors—red, yellow, and blue—as well as the three secondary colors—orange, green, and purple—arranged to form the shape of a circle. Scribbled in black ink and messy, scrawled out handwriting to the side of each color lay a description, some just a few words and others a well-developed paragraph addressing every bit of the color. All of the colors had their own special description but one: red.

Jongin had no clue what red meant.