...and so we named all the colours of the world...

Reaching through the electric jungle, I take my daughter's hand.

Her eyes acknowledge my presence; she smiles.

I smile.

Fighting the exhaustion, she mutters:

"Tell me the names of all the colours..."

"My darling, how could I possibly? For there are so many."

"Are there more than the number of birthdays I've had?"

"Much more than eight, Maya, much more than eight."

"But, mother, 'how' many exactly?"

"So many, Maya, too many for you worry about"

"What makes you think I am worried?"

"Because you ask with such urgency–"

My mind ticks back to the day the news came, when I asked with such an urgency, the answers to questions I never thought I'd ask: how long does she have to–

"Do they all have names?"

"I'm not sure..."

"Where do their names come from?"

"I'm not sure..."

" 'I' think they are named after angels, once their time on earth has finished."

"I think you're probably right, I'll do my best for you, my love. Close your eyes, sleep tight."

She closes her eyes as I tell her tales of colours dancing on the walls of sun-lit streets; she is content.

I am content.

Suddenly it is morning.

All I see is colour; a shade so specific that it must be new.

I then recall our chat from the night before.

This shade is 'Maya Blue'.

...and so we named all the colours of the world...until you became one.