so here is the beginning of a story. you finish it!
i look out my window and see just endless dull grey. why, i think to myself, do i have to live like this, so... well, grey. yes, i am living very grey, i agree with myself. traped in this drab tower with no control over what or when i eat and how i dress, i am a prisoner to my own mother and father. and yet at this time i do not know how lucky i am to have a life like this, in boredom, but yet luxury. i do not yet realise what a colourful life could mean i would have to give up.