Dog - red, blue, yellow.

A memorable segment of the distant past, but now I lost that paddle, muted into greyness, and...
"Solitary and withdrawn, with nothing to occupy me save my hopeless but, as far as I am concerned, indispensable little investigations, that is how I live."
The preoccupation with the following thus consumes me:
"Certainly the fate of types like mine must be a strange one, and the existence of my colleagues can never be of visible help to me, if for no other reason than that I should scarcely ever be able to recognize them. We are the dogs who are crushed by silence, who long to break through it, literally to get a breathe of fresh air; the others seem to thrive on silence."
- Franz Kafka, Investigations of a Dog