In our garden there was an abandoned, ramshackle summerhouse. I loved it for its stained glass windows. Whenever I wandered about inside it, passing from one coloured pane to the next, I was transformed: I took on the colours of the landscape that - now flaming and now dusty, now smouldering and now sumptuous - lay before me in the window. It was like what happened with my watercolours, when things would take me to their bosom as soon as I overcame them with a moist cloud. Something similar occured with soap bubbles… In those days one could buy chocolate in pretty little crisscrossed packets, in which every square was wrapped separately in colourful tinfoil… green and gold, blue and orange, red and silver… from out of this sparkling entanglement the colours one day broke upon me, and I am still sensible of the sweetness with which my eye imbibed them. It was the sweetness of chocolate.
Benjamin / Berlin Childhood/ Colours
…electricity through an over abundance of light produces multiple blindings
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