Colour

I stole my father's palette few year ago. It has been hidden in the bottom of my desk drawer until very recently when I decided to start drawing again. I've been thinking of dad and his life journey a lot since I was pregnant. As I look at the palette and its dry and cracked water colour, I wonder if I have also mistakenly stolen my father's colour of life and left him all the misery. So he starts to hate, to blame everyone else but himself...