What must it be like to live so close together with so many other people, yet so high above the ground? Does the wind shake you when it is in a fierce mood? Does the rain batter your windows and your heart as if they were made merely of moulded plastic? Do you hear the joys and sorrows of the others? Do you feel them?
I have only ever lived in a house or a ground floor flat in a block of six. To live in a place with so many flats and so many windows might overwhelm me. What if everyone moved to their window at the same time and looked out – would that make the building lean forward? What if everyone coughed at the same time – would the walls shake?
I imagine after several months of living there that I would hear the thoughts of my fellow flat dwellers at night, whispering, interrupting my sleep. I imagine that after a year we would be attuned with one another – putting on our kettles and our slippers and our slices of toast at the same time.
I imagine our rhythms, our footsteps, the beats of our hearts would align until we eased in and out of the day like a musical interlude or a life already scripted.
And I might wonder if living so high, so much a part of the marvels of modern engineering, with all those windows filling my face with light, would make it hard for me to keep my feet on the ground.