Grey is how I saw the world in my early childhood: in monochrome newspapers, television and old photographs. It seemed as if two world wars had leached all colour. And then it returned in the sixties.
My nan had a drawer in her bedroom dressing table which was full to the brim with black and white photographs. We used to sit on her bed, sifting through them, with me pointing at people and asking ‘Who’s that?’
Nan and Granddad had a television long before my parents did and I would spend most Saturday afternoons watching old movies with Granddad, especially those with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers – beautiful and exciting, but grey.
All those grey pictures made me think that the past and the rest of the world existed in shades of grey. Only my little world had any colour.
silver threads of hoar
snowy landscape tinged with ash
different shades of grey
Kim M. Russell, 2018
Björn is our host this Monday and he would like us to consider grey as a subject for haibun. He says that grey can be everything between black and white, all the possibilities of compromise and harmony. It is also absence of color – an absence of joy. Grey is winter, whiteout, mist and rain. It could be the swelling of the sea. It is ink-wash, old pewter and the haircolour of old age.
Our challenge is to bring grey into a piece of personal (non-fictional) prose of no more than 200 words, with added a haiku (including season and nature).