Think of a huge blank paper.

Only two people standing in front of it.

They are confused.
The paper is hard and can't be painted at all. After a certain point these people realise that they will have to engrave their will on it.
As years pass and the paper started getting softer, through the continuous scratching, people started using colours on it. A chaos of different shapes and shades.
These two people are lost in the crowd that keeps on painting. They are using colours, they spit on it, they pee on it, they shed tears on it, each and every one of them tries to make other people see themselves on it, no matter what means they will have to use.

After all these years the paper became black. Colours look funny next to it. A soft slowly decaying paper. Every dawn and dusk is lonely and peaceful. A black paper consumed by the shade.

Only the sun makes it strart leaning on the front just a bit. The heat let's it go free ignoring the crowd. Feelings fade through the heat. The paper keeps on hanging as it has been for years with the sense of blankness, the way it used to be when it came to life, a slight smile could be formed in its middle, still lost in the black. The continuous search for the sun will destroy it.

The black paper will eventually wear off and pop a fire creating light.

It's made to avoid the excessive contact with the sun, yet it asks for the end to come this way.