• Black letters of type race across a screen at inhuman speeds as a young man types.

    Black, like the colour of his hair.

    Black like nightfall, like choking clouds heavy with rain.

    Black like the hearts of criminals, like the sheen of ink as a pen in the Kanto region whizzes across the pale pages of the Death Note.

    In black, there is solace. In black, there is shadow, darkness, and despair.

    Black is the colour of mourning in so many cultures.

    Black is the colour of death.

    But black is also the colour of rebirth.

    The black night brings renewing sleep; the swollen black clouds release dearly needed rain.

    Without all colours, there is no black.

    Without black, there is no colour.

    As the shadows need light to survive, light depends on the shadows.

    Without Good, there is no evil.

    Without day, there is no night.

    Without darkness, there is no light.

    Yet the shadow is seen as bad, and people try to rid themselves of it.

    Nothing is also represented by black, a black void. An abyss, as it were.

    Death is sometimes called the Abyss, or the void. Nothing is supposed to exist long after it is dead.

    Decomposers and scavengers desecrate the tombs of wildlife, the tombs of men, the fallen trees.

    Nothing is sacred after it is dead.

    And what about you? Are you now afraid to die, now that the truth is laid bare?

    Or are you still holding on to an outdated belief, an ancient God who will punish sinners and give his followers eternal life?

    Nothing lasts forever.

    Only the void.