The purpose of life is to paint walls.
Every layer in it has to be planned, prepared and painted carefully. You paint, you enjoy a little perhaps, and finally you find yourself staring at the same wall once again, thinking "hey, let's paint it again!".
You stare at the old paint you just put on the wall not that long ago. It's not pure white anymore. That's for sure. Many stains. But you realize that you know every stain on it. You remember how and when the stains got there. And suddenly the stains start to fade away. You can no longer see stains. You see life!
Then you smile a bit. Or cry a bit.
And then the new paint has to be painted. Fast!
The pure whiteness gradually covers the old stains, and eventually you won't even remember that the old stains are still there. But they are. Sitting quietly between the old and the new layer. Captured in timelessness.
And then you're done. And you start making new stains..
I have no idea.
Why do you even choose the white color in the first place? Grey or brown would work as well. The wall doesn't care. It just keeps you warm and safe. And watch you paint.
The good solid wall, my friend.