She didn’t introduce the tower dramatically. In fact, she acted like there was nothing unusual about it at all. “It’s different once you’re up there, I could show you guys” she said casually. Then she led us inside. There’s no normal staircase winding through the structure. Instead, an elevator runs straight through the middle of the tower, carrying you upward as the neighborhood slowly falls away beneath you.
The higher we went, the stranger the view became. Palm trees that looked tall from the sidewalk suddenly sat below eye level. Rooftops flattened into neat rows. Roads turned quiet and distant. And then the doors opened. The interior wasn’t cramped or industrial like we expected. It felt cared for. Warm wood wrapped around the circular rooms, polished enough that the space almost glowed in the afternoon light. The curved walls and built-in details didn’t feel improvised or old.
Everything looked maintained. Not staged. Not luxurious. Just looked after. And somehow, the higher we went—the more the city below stopped feeling connected to the house at all.