One afternoon when I was writing the ‘color’ essay in my silver Mac power book in my New York apartment, it started raining like cats and dogs. The thunderstorm made the room so pitch black. Getting up from my black chair to turn on the yellow light, off-guardedly, I saw the colorful window… Looking out of the brown wooden-framed window, I was struck by the beautiful color abstract scene. I couldn’t see my neighbor’s red brick wall and the green trees in the back yard any more. The silver heavy rain was making the brick wall and the trees almost invisible in a blur of forest green and burgundy. What I was used to see is not what I was seeing. The rhythm of the falling rain is the sound of Ryuichi Sakamoto’s piano. The color vibration of my window is the color palette of Kandinsky.