Four things that are Aquablue:
The Mediterranean Sea in the summer.
The sky, when the weather's good.
Melancholy.
A butterfly, a kind of which I don't know if it is real or imaginary.
I had just moved to Greece, and I spent my days doing not many things at all. After helping my grandma in the kitchen, I would drive my scooter down to the beach, which used to be always packed in the summer but was totally empty that spring. I would sit on the cliffs and look at the ocean. I'd observe the Aquablue and... not as much lose myself in thought, but lose myself in feeling, rather.
A year-and-a-half or so later, I was living in a small flat in Hamburg. It was winter and, though busy, the days I spent were quiet and shallow. When the work of the day had been done, in total afternoon-darkness, I would go to the harbour and walk along the waterfront. And though the damp, muddy, dirty snow certainly didn't look-a-like the Aegean did all those months ago, it still felt the same. It made me feel the same.
Aquablue.