I looked at you for the last time.
You have been the face that I see (almost) every day in fifteen years. I have seen you change colors – from blue to gray to the wild colors of the sunset. I have witnessed how you changed your mood from sunny to windy to stormy. I have seen you rise from the remnants of the rioting of the late 1990s to the re-growth of the economy.
You showed me your hidden beauty — the mountains that lie behind the clouds — and your suffocating ugliness (where is the blue in the sky?)! You were proud of your vastness. You painted backdrops worth megapixels that took space in my memory bank. You awed me with gridlocks and floods and rival gangs chasing each other. You gave me the front seat to breaking news (that’s often about fires). You gave me and my colleagues something to talk about.
I looked at you for the last time and wondered will I ever see you again. I wonder how you would look like in five years when the skeletons of steel become glittering glasses of beauty and madness. I wonder how your sunsets would look like after every last prayer of the day.
I looked at you for the last time and captured that moment when you are at your best.
I looked at you for the last time. With gratefulness.
I turned around without bidding goodbye.
I walked away.
Time to move on.