Outside the huge glass window on the fourteenth floor, I sat and stared at the skyline.

A silky, blue sky with orange creases burning through it, almost bursting at the seams with the weight of the dipping sun as it sank deeper into its folds.

And through it all, the dark needle of a skyscraper pierces the fabric of the sunset, with a still, unmoving, unwavering arrogance that fills every space in the air around it with its own measures of its greatness.

Some birds fly around it, but most just scatter away. It attracts, but the bravest.

A monument to man.

Dark, silent, sedate, and tantalizingly conspicuous.



Tiny lights glimmer below it on curls of roads and narrow streets that look as if someone pencilled them in. Like fireflies going on and off, signs of movement thump softly like the sounds of a beating heart...with a noise so soft, that one feels as if the flutter of an eyelash would cause one to miss the beat.


And sometimes, one does miss the beat. But this time, the heart is one's own, that has suddenely filled with a strange pressure. Not nostalgia. Just...just, awe.
Awe. I wish I believed in something enough to bow to it.


Proud. I am proud of Man. I am fearlessly, arrogantly proud of him.