I like sunglasses
The afternoon I read the word amarillo in a book was milliseconds before the colour yellow came through the train window panes. Before I continue I would like to add that this post isn't to say I didn't feel appreciative, nor to say that like my private space was being invaded, since the train was grey moments before.
I smiled and I doubt that this was perceived by anyone, and I believe that were it for someone else they'd also smile at the sun shining through the glass, provided their attention were on it or they were receptive in some way, even without the serendipity of the word amarillo beforehand or simultaneous.
That was a different train and this is a different train, that goes from Milano Centrale to Torino Porta Nuova. There are clouds for grey and sun for yellow as I write. Some of the yellow itself gets covered by blinds that I thought might be yellow but incredibly all of them are fucking grey.
(Disclaimer: the veracity of this is not guaranteed because I am wearing yellow-tinted sunglasses. They were bought for six euros as the trendiest option I could find from the corner shop a mere ten seconds away from the front door to where I live, a shop that I unfortunately frequent I would say several times a week, where I buy things that I often regret buying, sometimes due to it not having healthier versions of unhealthy food that I eat. The sunglasses themselves by the way have a light hairline crack on the right-hand side of the right lens, barely perceptible to my eyes when I have them on or even when I pull them off my nose to check if I can find it, taking a moment to sort of acknowledge it as a thing, so I think I can actually pass them off as fully functional shades when I'm out, I mean from others' perspective, but the crack only appeared a couple of weeks ago, so I might have to buy some new ones.)