He let out a hum, the grey world pulsing as he stared at the empty canvas. Breathing in, he pushed his hand forward, fingers straining around the wooden handle. The bristles on his paintbrush stroked the page, creating a tiny sweeping noise as it gently laid the colour down. Sprinkles of red flicked from the paper, floating in the air it injected life, reality twisting around him. Dipping the paintbrush in a blue mound, he pushed it down, creating a hard line that rolled from page to air. Again, his room pulsed, the colour spurting into life, tainting the black and white world with vibrant shades. Once finished, he hung his masterpiece up and took a step back. It was wrong, the lines crossing at wrong points, colours not matching. He sat back down at a new clean page, the grey world pulsing as he stared at the empty canvas.