Emerging from her world of thought Mrs. Desbaresdes suddenly asked: What's your favourite colour?

Mr. Chauvin, used to this question, automatically replied: Dark red. And yours?

Her gaze vanished under the firm and confident answer.

Why dark red? I don't have any. For me, colour alone doesn't exist, it's

always in relation to a background, to a history, to conventions... <Colour> is never separated from a surface, a matter and especially from light. The difficulty has more to do with the recognition of those parameters and the questioning of them. And also with the medialisation and reproduction of colours and coloured objects. There's no mle, there's no right or wrong.

He waited. He spoke to her in an appeasing and soothing tone.

I simply like red. Does this require any explanation? The choice of a colour is something very personal. Isn't colour depending on one's associations?

She poured some more wine into her glass and said:

For me colour is not so much about the tint itself but it gives me the opportunity to make a certain statement: This is my room, and this is the colour I've chosen. For me, it's a simple way to express myself. One shows his or her colours by choosing them. Neutrality disappears when it comes to colour. It's such a striking tool, isn't it?

Mr. Chauvin looked down.

So my favourite colour is orange.

Mrs. Desbaresdes stood up from her chair. He remained seated, overwhelmed by the absurd situation.