I have two desks at home, one for work and the other where the rest of my life takes place.
Coincidentally, the former is white, contrasting sharply with the near-blackness of the latter,
although I would not seek any particular meaning in that, and besides, both gather dust just
as quickly. But when I think about it, white really emphasises the futility of my nine-to-five,
while black goes well with the solitude of the remainder of the day. Perhaps there is meaning
in colours; I just missed the right palette.