Today, I could see the blue of the sky.
I never thought that just the sight of a sliver of blue sky could fill me with such happiness. It was pure blue and the sun shone through and I felt a place inside me that I didn't even know was empty fill up with joy.
OK, that's a tad melodramatic. But you don't understand how much you need to see the sky until it's gone. Every day a light gray smog cloud drops down and grips the shoulders of the buildings in this city. It smothers the sun and the sky until everything looks even more dirty and ramshackle than it really is. I find myself yearning to look up out of the haze of gray hot humidity and see a cheerful blue.
Sorry, I sort of sunk into histrionics again. But I don't know, I want to write this blog like prose so in case I ever feel like writing a memoir or something I have some excellent material to draw from. Plus, I want anyone who reads this to feel like they're actually seeing and feeling what I'm describing. I mean, I'm supposed to be a writer. Therefore, I strive for exquisite description.
Anyway, to offset the gray urban landscape I've been placed into I have purchased a small bamboo plant. I really think I'm incapable of caring for plants but I once managed to keep a bamboo plant alive for a few years so hopefully I can manage with this one too. If not, I can callously say that it was only 45 kuai.
For now I will gaze rapturously at the slice of blue the universe has begrudgingly offered up, following the example of the bamboo. We turn our leaves to the light.