It’s like stepping outside in the little courtyard out back with the garbage cans and old bicycles to look at the sky before you go to sleep. No, it’s more like stepping out onto your spacious balcony seven floors up in an ordinary drab neighbourhood, not yet demolished, and see birds soaring in circles through the morning sky around the high-rise next to the bicycle shelter, both very drab and ordinary in a very ordinarily ingenious way, in the direction of sunset or sunrise.

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