Gray, Black and white

Chapter 2 : the artist's workshop

Under the gloomy darkness of a starry night , where stars are scattered in the sky of Constantine with not being able to beat the darkness, everybody was slamming doors and closing windows. Everybody in the town felt a storm coming behind that freezing air flow in the streets. But Bilal didn't leave that workshop. He started drawing and left that town, those streets, that world , without even leaving that workshop. It was a cold night in December, in the year 1955 when he carried on his work . He felt the stress of the soldiers, getting prepared to fight their battles, getting prepared for a waging war. But he fought with them without even standing from his chair. Wearing a long blouse, he took a painting brush, dipping it in water, then in a cup of coffee, then he started drawing. Bilal knew what coffee smells like , what it tastes like, a mixture between the sour and the sweet, a war between burnt wood and aroma of coffee beans, but he had never known what the color of coffee looked like. He had been told that it's brown , but he had never known what brown looks like, whether it's hot or cold, whether it's dark or light. But he believed that it's closer to black than light gray. It was torturous for him, it was a spell more than a sickness to him. But he realized to make pure perfection through his paintings, and amaze people of what colors blinde eyes can see , and what can artistic hands make, with that smooth brush dancing along the paper , making beautiful shapes. He had visited a lot of places with Noureddin , then came back to draw them in his workshop. He helped Noureddin to take a better image of places and draw his plans on them, while Ali's job was to bring and take secret letters to the Algerian army . Noureddin brang more information to the Algerian army from his French friends. He had been risking his life doing that, but he was also proud since he's doing his duty to his country. Claire often visits Bilal's workshop to see his drawing evolution, and she used to blow Bilal's mind with her talkative tongue, and with some melodies she used to play on her violin , unlike him, he were shy and calm, but he really enjoyed her company, and were so glad to see her every day. One day , she tried to get Bilal to use acrylic colors to paint, he hesitated , but she kept insisting. Claire promised Bilal to help him distinguish between the colors, so he had to accept that challenge. For the second time in his life , Bilal had to face his fears, he wasn't afraid of facing the drawing board, but afraid of the failias an artist who can't make a single colorful painting. Claire figured that out and told him « every good artist's house is full of bad paintings. Actually a famous artist said that, so you should believe in it and move on ''. She was a pretty good violist, but she was also a terrible painter. She grabbed the palate and mixed some colors for him to use. He started working, and with no worries, he just left the pencil skating smoothly in the paper, while the smell of acrylic spread everywhere. She helped him to distinguish between the blue and the green, the pink and the red, the yellow and the brown. He started drawing with the pencil and painting with the brush. For the first time in his life, Bilal felt that he had been drawing for passion. He managed to put his passion in  every shape, every line and every point . He felt the blood boiling in his veins, and the tears stuck in his eyes, and the words rumbling inside his mouth. He couldn't say a single thing , but he kept bleeding on that drawing board. Claire appreciated the fact that he had been drawing with passion, and she even saw more contradictions through his art. That day she gave him a chance to see through her eyes, and show the beauty of abstract feelings in a concrete space. All he managed to draw is a beautiful view of that mealow in their farm, and a girl standing in it , wearing a big hat and a white dress. It was Claire. He managed to gather that wreck of emotions and that raging storm of a peaceful war inside of him, between a brain and a heart in that colorful masterpiece. Claire looked at him and said:«you forgot to sign it! Stupid artist» Bilal grabbed a pen and signed it , then he said:« I will keep it in the workshop so that I can always remember the noisy, childish girl who helped me draw a colorful piece of art, for the first time in my life. Thank you Claire.» 

_ Stop it , why are you suddenly emotional? Come on, write my name near yours. I'm a part of both the painting and the painter. 

_ You know what, when I marry you, I'll write your name in the sand, near mine.

_ fine! Then let's get a house built on the sandy beach. Let's buy a small puppy, and name him blue. 

_ why blue?

_ It's my favorite color.

_ okay that's a promise.

_Bilal it's a pinky promise, at the end you can't deny that you promised me.

_Don't worry, after independence,I'll make it possible.

Bilal blushed ,then tried to review what he said again and checked whether he said something stupid or not