read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

August 13, 2002
I’m on the 15th floor of a building with 34 floors -- more than halfway up. Up enough to glance out my window and see the backs of birds, the roofs of cars, and the tops of the heads of people. I see twenty other buildings, and peer into windows trying to find people like me who are halfway up. In all but one, the dust on the drawn shades reflect emptiness. Why is this city growing taller if the people who should be halfway up are instead laughing up at me from the tops of their heads down below?