DAYS WENT BY, and weeks. Jonas learned, through the memories, the names of colors; and now he began to see them all, in his ordinary life {though he knew it was ordinary no longer, and would never be again}. But they didn't last. There would be a glimpse of green-the landscaped lawn around the Central Plaza; a bush on the riverbank. The bright orange of pumpkins being trucked in from the agricultural fields beyond the community boundary-seen in an instant, the flash of brilliant color, but gone again, returning to their flat and hueless shade. The Giver told him that it would be a very long time before he had the colors to keep. "But I want them!" Jonas said angrily. "It isn't fair that nothing has color!" "Not fair?" The Giver looked at Jonas curiously. "Explain what you mean." "Well . . ." Jonas had to stop and think it through. "If everything's the same, then there aren't any choices! I want to wake up in the morning and decide things! A blue tunic, or a red one?" He looked down at himself, at the colorless fabric of his clothing. "But it's all the same, always." Then he laughed a little. "I know it's not important, what you wear. It doesn't matter. But-" "It's the choosing that's important, isn't it?" The Giver asked him. Jonas nodded.
( Lois Lowry )
[ The Giver ]
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