Listen. Listen closely now. I will play you a scale. A simple scale: A minor. Do you hear it now? The way the ringing spreads in ripples, brushing your earlobe, sliding down your the curve of your shoulder, drifting against your collar bone? Why do you shiver as the notes cascade? Why do you tilt your head--twelve degrees--and let your eyes rest shut? You know not when I ask, but you feel it. You feel when notes turn to song; you delight in the subtleties of modulation. You know the soft and the hard, the smooth and the staccato. You believe the melody, for it cannot lie to you--not when every note finds safe harbor in your bosom.
This is the way of colors. As tone illuminates sound, color draws vibrancy to image. As you hear resonance and rhythmn, colors tint warm and cool. Color is no stranger, you've just never known to meet it. You've known its depths, its draw and absence, its urgency, vitality. Trumpeted out or played low and slow on the stereo, song as image, heart as heart. Within melody you find your palette.