When I think back to my days at Feller, I see no color. No yellow sun, no blue sky, no purple lilac, no red lips. Everything is in shades of black or white or gray, as in a dream.

The school building is always standing, silhouetted against bleak skies. Everywhere objects cast long black shadows. Trees stand starkly outlined with branch fingers stiffly pointing at each other or towards heaven. Students are in black tunics with white blouses or gray pants and black blazers. Teachers are like giant bats with their flying black gowns. Faces are impassive. Classrooms are covered in gray dust, and the walls are blackboards. Windows block light with a film of gray grime.

Emotionally too, there is no happiness, no joy, no climax. I never hear the sound of joyous song in the halls nor unbridled laughter from the rooms. Classmates never sally by, arm-in-arm, or dance cheerfully from room to room or class to class. In fact, there is seldom intermingling at all.

By the same token, neither do I have any sense of sorrow, grief or distress. I cannot remember sobbing night after night into a pillow, or feeling lonesome, heart-broken or homesick. I find myself in a state of limbo, waiting to exhale. It is like sleepwalking. Awake but unaware and unresponsive.

I think now, that perhaps Feller served as a sort of purgatory for me. A place where my suffering, inhabited by the soul of a sinner, did penance before moving on to real life. It was where, in some ephemeral space, I strived to extend myself to be fearless, strong and valuable. In so doing I learned more valuable lessons in trusting, courage, bravery and honor.

Even now, as I realize how odd this whole occurrence was, and I strain to find color in my minds-eye. I can’t do it. What color was my room? My bedspread? My Towel? Can’t say. Don’t see it in any color but gray.

I wonder if anyone else experienced the same phenomenon as I.