I looked outside a window from a small office where I was sitting down. I was expecting to see blue skies sprawled above buildings upon buildings of Manila skyline, but I didn't find it there. Instead, i found gray clouds that matched an abandoned building.I looked further, hoping to find it in the water of Manila bay. It turned out to be an unsuccessful voyage. I saw two young girls, instead,tacking like skilled seafarer ready to brave all storm and navigate the world. Sailing boats of different sizes docked not too far from the shore. As the girls slowly disappear from my sight, I asked myself, do they live around here? Do they eat around here, Do they eat and swallow or eat and vomit?
My chest tightened as the thick air of stinking smell of rotten city filled my lungs. I let out a sigh of longing for a cool scent of ocean breeze before I turned away from my own vague reflection in the mud black water, glinting, floating along the empty plastic bottles and cigarette butts.
I was back at my seat, surrounded with white painted concrete and fully air conditioned room. I was scribbling for self indulgence and wonder how the word "blue" matters to me. I drown my thoughts with things I associate with it. And I told myself I would rather suffocate with my own carbon dioxide than come up with the most cliche meaning that blue is "PEACE" or "HEAVEN".
I paused, unaware that I was tapping my pen vigorously on the paper. I looked outside once again, but i found blue inside when I realized that the historical beauty and value of Manila could either only be found on books or at someone's old memory.
