
Your vantage point is from this turret, right in the middle of the city centre. Below you the people are rushing around, arms laden with bags or children or both. You hear the mingling murmur of the pigeons and of hundreds of moving voices, talking and walking, asking questions, giving answers. Then the random boisterous yell of a teenager floats up at you like the scent of chip fat: hideous and alluring in equal measure, with the ability to invade every space.
For the most part, you are removed, tucked away like a chess piece that decided it wasn't enough to play the board, that it was time to see the world. It's the place where you can watch the pinball universe at work and play, and build up the reservoir of your wonder.