Look up, if you dare, and everything converges: skyscrapers, traffic signals, power lines, flags. A brilliant sun lights up a vast blue sky, cut up into awkward slices and jigsaw pieces.
The view is the diametrical opposite of bird's-eye, perhaps ant's-eye or at least pedestrian's-eye. Over our heads the world revolves around our singular vision, but we are pretty small and insignificant.
Does glancing up steeply invoke the same vertigo as peering over the edge of a rooftop? It may be that we are already falling and just don't know it yet.
Look up, if you dare, and everything converges: skyscrapers, traffic signals, power lines, flags. A brilliant sun lights up a vast blue sky, cut up into awkward slices and jigsaw pieces.
The view is the diametrical opposite of bird's-eye, perhaps ant's-eye or at least pedestrian's-eye. Over our heads the world revolves around our singular vision, but we are pretty small and insignificant.
Does glancing up steeply invoke the same vertigo as peering over the edge of a rooftop? It may be that we are already falling and just don't know it yet.
Look up, if you dare, and everything converges: skyscrapers, traffic signals, power lines, flags. A brilliant sun lights up a vast blue sky, cut up into awkward slices and jigsaw pieces.
The view is the diametrical opposite of bird's-eye, perhaps ant's-eye or at least pedestrian's-eye. Over our heads the world revolves around our singular vision, but we are pretty small and insignificant.
Does glancing up steeply invoke the same vertigo as peering over the edge of a rooftop? It may be that we are already falling and just don't know it yet.
