I have been loved the blue colors (yep, colors) since I remember. But, like everything I try to not spend it using ad nauseam, so when I can I choose grey suits, or yellow walls, or red books, or black bags or lemon green cups. Is a haunting presage that some day I cannot see the blue with the same eyes again, see it as some ordinary color if I waste its colors in everything I could have.
I am not sure why I like it, maybe the old superman’s comics where the man, who could be the last inca, used a big electric blue costume; also there are the blues you can see when you live at 3800 meters above the sea: or who knows, could be that it was a scarce color in those days that industries has limitations and everything seemed an uniform and anonymous grey.
Heraclitus whispers to our ears that we are never going to step the same river again. Sure, but I’d love that that other river could always be blue ;-).
Qhapaq 