Maybe it’s the bird in me, but I like high places.  Mountains, eighth story windows, top bunk beds, anywhere I can watch for enemies crossing the event horizon.  As far as I can get from the stench of ancient blood in the earth and as close as I can get to the point in the sky where the blue deepens, where I can pretend I am falling into the Mariana Trench, where I can pretend I am precipitate settling in a beaker.