What are still?                                                                                                                                                                      A blanket of bleak, suffocating snow and a pale lifeless dead body.

What are hot?                                                                                                                                                                  The bubbling insides of Mount Vesuvius and the Sun’s untouchable, blinding rays in the burning Summer sky.

What sounds magnificent?                                                                                                                                    Mellifluous water rippling gently in a perfect African sunset and a football net rattling on a beautiful, miraculous Saturday afternoon.

What are deep?                                                                                                                                                                  The undiscovered, unforgiving Mariana Trench and endlessly blue eyes which you can get lost in.

What are unholy?                                                                                                                                                             A demonic entity being summoned from a ouija board and the basement of Ed and Lorraine Warren.

What are sharp?                                                                                                                                                              A knife in the street lights and shattered glasses which have been lost in the bin of a tragic, abandoned pub of memories.

What are heavy?                                                                                                                                                         The pressure on a penalty taker’s shoulders and the tension in the stadium as he takes it.

What are frozen?                                                                                                                                                          The frosty, crystalized heart and icy lemonade on a beach in Dubai.

What are bright? A lava lamp on a little boy’s bedside drawers and the light of a phone stunning your eyes when you first wake up.

What are silent? A broken person holding in their deep, untouched emotions and a soundproof classroom as a teacher raises their hand.

I want to paint succulent, sensational apple pie and custard heating up my taste buds, dancing around my mouth like the blazing Sun on a hot summer day.

I want to paint the smell of magical, lavender scented reindeer food on a crisp, icy Christmas Eve night like a hug of warmth on a frozen day in the snow.

I would paint myself dancing deviously around humiliated players on a football pitch, bursting with pride as as fans intensely watch and celebrate as I score goals like Lionel Messi.

I would paint Anfield on a buzzing gameday erupting with noise like a volcano. It is magical, warm and captivating with the net rattling like a snake in the deep black sky.