Another ten step high concrete stair section has floated by my window.  Multiple tubular reddish steel arteries protrude from the top and the bottom and the zombie grey concrete seems to wish that it is an artificial heart, that will come to life when the surgeons suture it into place.

This is the second day in a row that the crane on the building site next door is lifting stair sections into the hollow block – more concrete – the column at the centre of the new building next door.  The central tower is at least four floors higher than my eighth floor window.  This is the chest, the ribcage of the modern living space, built to protect the vitals.  I have to fight the urge to calculate how many flights of stairs are required to fill it.