I can’t begin to imagine the world dulled to one colour.
Nor can I imagine having colour restricted to one patch of the world – watching thirty minutes of a TV episode in black and white is quite enough for me. And even then, it was because the black-and-white was a hallucination: the episode began and ended in colour, but the body of it was black and white.
I just can’t fathom it. I’m used to being able to Google-image colours and what objects they might be, used to using extra words to describe the shade of something. Colour is what makes things interesting; clothes and books and all sorts of things. Imagine having a line of books on your shelf in this colourless world, just an endless row of plain white with black font. Doesn’t that sound dreary?
I have kind of a low boredom threshold to begin with; stripping the world of colour would send me into a boredom stupor, I think. With this in mind, I refuse to force only one of my objects to retain colour and bleach the rest.