Chapter One - Nathan Worth

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Chapter One - Nathan Worth

My name is Nathan Worth and I was born in Polokwane, an exceptional city in Limpopo, one filled with delight and unending pleasures. However, my stay in Limpopo was not that lengthy, due to the fact that my father and I could not see eye to eye. At the age of eighteen I readily relocated to Soweto, but I had never set foot there prior to my stay. I am a painter, a self-taught painter and to me, the latter is not just a mere profession but rather, an engraved aspiration to my heart.

Both my parents were renowned accountants, they even had their own reputable firm, one that worked with prestigious companies, my father was more fond of his profession, sadly, his relentless fondness suspended a misfortune upon our relationship, because he was always compelling me to resemble him in every way, yet I'm not entirely sure if the latter was rendered consciously; but in all honesty, I loved my father, for he had proven to be a responsible father by always going the whole nine yards for me. My mother on the other hand, was always in harmony with my passion, she neither coerced me nor suggested that I become an accountant like her and that really put me at ease.

I started painting at a tender age, but I was twelve years old when I discovered my affection for art, though at that time I regarded it as something that would only qualify as a hobby, because I thought being an adult revolved around wearing suits and toiling in an office despite lack of yearning, I mean that is the mindset my father had embedded into me. I never wanted to be rich, I just wanted to have enough while doing something that would make me feel bright eyed and bushy tailed. I never had friends too and a large part of that reality was associated with me because I was an introvert but a part of me yearned to have at least one or two friends, yet having to fulfil that desire was a problem because I was always hesitant.  

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When I turned seventeen, I firmly realized that I wanted to pursue a course different from what my father had initially urged me to pursue and that is, art, being a painter. I therefore approached him about the matter but he was very reluctant to acknowledge my expressions. Unfortunately, my father was a very stubborn man, a hard nut to crack and having to convince him was always a dilemma, so after my unsuccessful attempt, I decided to let sleeping dogs lie for a while, hoping that he would one day change his mind, but frankly speaking, I was blatantly biting off more than I could chew. He never changed his mind, he was adamant to have me do what he had always desired for me. I never bothered my mother about my dad because I knew that such an act would only put her between a rock and a hard place. 

Therefore, I concluded that I would do things the way I see fit, because I could not imprison myself on a path filled with disharmony. The latter would cause tragedy and bickering, let alone stigmatizing the atmosphere between my mom and dad, especially since my dad had the tendency of blaming my mother for my mistakes and decisions, yet my mother was a very quiet person, she would always let bygones be bygones and one would think that she was a needlessly nonchalant woman but honestly, that trait enabled her to handle things with intellect and tranquility and I admired her for that fixated mindset. I would like to believe that I resembled more of my mother's traits, and I could have resembled some of my father's traits but he was very unkind to everyone and I did not find pleasure in his unappealing manner of doing things.

Though my father wasn't always unkind and in all honesty, I am not sure as to where did this rage of his originate, I slightly recall that when I was still in primary school, he would display an enormous amount of love to people despite not being acquainted with them and although the latter mentioned memory is a bit hazy, due to the fact that it took place when I was very young but I do remember that he wasn't always like this, he was a gentleman, especially towards his wife, my mother. He would always extend acts of romance to her and when mom was sick, my father would take a leave of absence from work just to zealously cater for his wife or better yet, the apple of his eye. Unfortunately, that was no longer the reality at hand but regardless of the kind of person he had become, my mother remained loyal to her matrimony and I respected that. The kind of marriage my parents had before my father withheld his acts of tenderness towards his family, incited me to appreciate the beauty of love but as already mentioned beforehand, I took a path of my own and I am presently situated in Paris as I write this delicate novel, a colorful story filled with a series of flourishing events. 

It wasn't always my plan to write a book about my life but someone special to me incited that desire. Initially, I wrote an article about my journey as an artist and that very article led to this novel, merely because I grew fond of imprinting my story on paper. I am Nathan Worth, the painter and the protagonist of "Colorful, A Love Story". 

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