Grey, perfect grey. Entropy won out, here; unlike some of the other, partial, photos, I can't imagine any way that the image I'd snapped--I'm sure, based on the number of this batch of photos, that it was a picture of something in Charlottetown in 2003--could possibly be reconstructed. So: grey.
The homogeneous colour reminded me of Derek Jarman's final film Blue.
Presumptuous? Of course. And yet, at the end--Blue's end, his career's end, his life's end--the narration made a lovely point.
No one will remember our work
Our life will pass like the traces of a cloud
And be scattered like
Mist that is chased by the
Rays of the sun
For our time is the passing of a shadow
And our lives will run like
Sparks through the stubble.
Blue is still a statement; so is grey.