Colour is a breath
- Mila iloria
- Aug 31
- 1 min read
Updated: Sep 4
When I say color, I don’t mean paint in a tube or a shade on a palette.
Color is breath.
It moves into me and out of me.
Each brushstroke is not the gesture of a hand, but an inhale made visible.
Blue breathes space.
It opens the chest like the sea you can enter without fear.
Green breathes through leaves — a quiet inhale of the garden, where I recognize my own lightness.
Red breathes warmth, pulse, the memory of being alive.
White breathes silence, always present.
When I paint, I don’t choose a color — the moment of breath chooses it.
The brush simply follows.
Color does not freeze.
It continues to breathe on the wall, in the room, in the one who looks at it.
Sometimes it feels like water: you dive in, and suddenly you know that the water itself is breathing you.
Color is a meeting.
The world breathes through me with the shades of a sunset, the green of the balcony, the quiet gray of asphalt after rain.
I answer with breath — and a painting is born.
Try it now: look at a color near you, any color.
Breathe with it.
Let it pass through you and return to the world transformed.
