Coming home to my apartment in the middle of the city. My ground floor abode in a high-rise building. On a lark I decide to get on the elevator and ride to the top. Up, up, up I go, occasionally greeting fellow riders on the way. I wonder how it could have taken me so long to make this trip -- I've lived in the building forever.
When I reach the top floor, the elevator opens to a large open space with windows and a deep plush carpet. There are a couple of folks hanging out there and they greet me. I marvel at the spaciousness of it all, and they claim that, not only is it spacious, but it costs very little to heat and cool it. It maintains a steady temperature year round. But the best part, they say, is outside on the roof. So, out I go.
The view is spectacular! Not my street level tableau at all, but a view of water, mountains beyond, the city skyline. The roof is so large, there is a hillock in the center where a group of people sit on a stone patio surrounded by a low wall, enjoying the evening and the vistas. How in the world could I have not possibly been up here before? Just look at this! I'd been living below this, far below, for all these years and never come up here. Never mind. I am here now. And I'll be back.