I live in a great part of the city.
Twenty eight floors up with a magnificent view of the sunset, igniting a reflective play between the Aon building and the Fairmont hotel and infusing the surrounding edifices with colors only seen in the early hours of dusk.
Life is pretty quiet for a balcony, except for the morning and afternoon rush hours with all the honking horns and screaming cabbies. There’s one other sound that disturbs my idyllic setting.
SPROING!
It’s the sound of jumper who has launched from the 42nd floor of my building, re-considered their future by the twenty-eighth floor and attempted to complete their trip by grabbing my metal railing. Of course, their grasp is only fleeting since the velocity developed between 42 and 28 makes the original decision rather permanent.
Fortunately, it only happens every six months. Haven’t had one since January and it’s almost Memorial D . .
SPROING!
Right on schedule. Means I can probably look forward to a vibration-free summer and fall.