The man crouched beneath the shadow of the great building. Looking up, he perceived the windows diminishing in size. He knew though that as he climbed he would not get smaller. Rather he would grow and eventually erupt. His ropes assembled, his beanie on his head, his mittens pulled tight, he took one more look. This was the last time he would look up at such a sight, with nothing below him. He would always be looking in, but not from far away. When his palm grabbed the first hold, his blood rushed. It hid in the corners of his body. It covered up in the darkest rooms of his chest. Someone else's brain got his body up onto the building. Some other fuel sparked his steps. Now those diminishing in size were the ones below him. He could feel himself becoming wide and immense, so much so that when he falls, he is still on the ground and higher than the building.