It’s always nice at the top of the tower. The wind and the view makes everything on the ground forgotten. Too bad it’s locked up most of the time and no one is allowed to come up alone, or I would have done so a long time ago. Today it’s with two guys from the film crew, covering some clips for a series. One is short and stocky, reminding me of my photography friend back in school. The other was rather friendly looking with thick black rimmed glasses. He was in an instructor’s PT kit. I met them at the bottom of the tower, which was a short walk from the building I came from.

‘Re-shooting some shots?’ I asked the one with the black rimmed glasses. Hipster or channeling military, I wouldn’t know.

‘Yeap, running up the tower with a camera. GoPro.’

‘Oh okay.’ More amusing was the fact that his boxers were peeking out from the bottom of his running shots. I wonder how he made it to the tower without anyone stopping him for inappropriate attire. Not like I would  have done so though, I’m not really the sort who likes confrontation. While waiting for the lift, I considered dropping a hint about his boxers but decided to shut up in the end. They were visitors after all.

We boarded the lift which would take us to the top of the tower. It wasn’t an awkward ride I would say, I’ve grown accustomed to those guys after following them for filming over the past week or so. They were discussing about what they would be shooting. Running up the tower. Briefly gazing down at the maroon tank top while running up. Catch glimpses of the foot stepping down on the concrete stairs.

‘Reliving the good old days?’ the shorter one asked.

‘Oh by the way, that’s the instructor’s set, not the Cadet’s. So if you’re filming and looking at the attire, you might catch the ‘Instructor’ tag there’ I chimed in earnestly, pointing at the label under the school’s logo, a nice golden yellow on maroon.

‘Aw shit, how do I get it off?’ The guy with the glasses started scratching on the label in a vain attempt to scrape it off.

The shorter one gave a chuckle, ‘It only fades after two years.’ I smiled along unwittingly.

‘Nevermind, I guess we can work around this’, The one with glasses added, still scratching at the word ‘instructor’ which was printed on rather well.

I was thinking, it would probably take more than two years to fade, but I kept it to myself.

The lift opened up and we were greeted with a blast of cool air from the breeze around. The sky was cloudy, but it was far from rainy. I took a corner and sat on a railing while the pair set up their cameras facing the surroundings. I would have sat on the marble ledges, but the ridiculous fear of getting blown off as though I was a paper doll stopped me. The image of falling over and landing with a splat about 80 metres above ground wasn’t the best ending one could have. The two of them were discussing camera angles and the height of the tower.

‘I heard you could get blown off if you climb up the ladder to the top of the tower’, I added, eyeing the ladder which led to the huge flagpole which held the nation’s colours high above.

‘Well, you should try’, Shorty said to Glasses. ‘Then I can film you flying off’, he continued, chuckling, with one eye peering through the viewfinder of the huge video camera they brought along. Industry standard.

I closed my eyes and let them get on with their work. The wind was great and I felt like enjoying whatever time I had up here while it lasts. I would have climbed up the ladder if I could, but the only thing stopping me was the presence of the two film crew members and the position I held. I would probably get into some major mess if I was spotted. Worse still, the wind would pick me up like a rag doll and blow me off and down into the thick green forest below. There are times I wish we had wings. To just soar up this high would be amazing. Imagine on those days when life is overwhelming you and all you want to do is run, you could just spread your wings and fly up to the top of some tall building. Well, that’s what I would have done.

Glasses had put on the GoPro camera on his forehead and was stepping into the lift, looking like an oddly dress dressed miner taking the lift into the depths beneath the soil. He was adjusting the camera on the interior of the lift.

‘Have fun,’ Shorty quipped as the lift doors closed. I gave a quick wave.

It was an odd 5 minutes before Glasses emerged from the stairs, breathless and exhausted. ‘Haven’t done this in a while,’ he heaved as he leaned back against the ledge. I gave him a bemused look.’ ‘Neither have I,’ I thought. I used to be much fitter before about 2 years ago before I got this job. A lot more creative too. Now I’m sitting here wondering where it went.

These days, I have no idea where that wondering mind of mine went. It used to float down the walls, leaving a slithering trail and a riot of colours; it used to transform into bunnies, divide itself and turn into bubbles. Crawl up paper and tear through layers. Turn lines of blue, purple and pink into a spectrum of colours, and from that spectrum of colours a fish would emerge, breathing out clouds; all round and fluid. However, right now it was as smooth as the marble tiles which lined the walls of the tower; angular like the corners which formed a strange vertical horizon against the sky in the distance.

Like the world reflected on the cold grey stone, where trees will be trees and clouds will be just gaseous structures in the sky. Perfect to the details of the formations and colours, coming together for me to see the greenery, the horizon and the perfect weather which surrounds this triangular container which holds me, high up the sky, as a tower should and a tower ever would be. Everything is ordinary, everything is well, and everything is just the way it is. Everything is perfect.

‘10 more minutes and we will be done.’ Shorty said as he stared out into the distant buildings.

But I don’t want to be done; I don’t want to be perfect. I want to see the marble ripple from the winds which blow this way, transforming into a tidal wave of swirling grey marble-coloured droplets; see the corners sway and the foundations bend and bow. I want to lean back off the ledge and pull up from the dive, with wings from my boots or clouds under my back. Heck, I could hit the floor and turn into a swirl of colours, but emerge from mouths of the stone lions which guard the stairs to the tower gates. I don’t want it to be picture perfect and well formed, but want it to be fluid and unpredictable. I had no idea where my mind went and what had become of it, but I know I don’t want to recognise it as how everyone tells me it is.

‘And we’re done. That’s a wrap!’

I hopped off the railing which I was sitting on and took in the cool breeze for one more time before stepping into the elevator in which Shorty and Glasses were waiting in. Shorty looked a lot like your typical soldier with the huge camera tripod resting on his shoulders. He nudged a button and the breeze stopped as it had come, as the elevator was bathed in a dim light and made its way down.

‘Thanks, we’ll see you again then’, Glasses piped happily as we walked from the tower. He still looked ridiculous with his boxers jutting out from under the running shorts. The sun was out and it was getting humid again, the way it usually was here.

‘No problem. Next time we’re filming again I think’.

I waved goodbye and headed down the stairs and back into the air conditioned building as they packed their equipment into an orange van in the parking lot. ‘Funny pair’, I thought, as I pushed open the door and entered back to where I came from.

Last I saw before the door closed, my mind was a huge shimmering pink and purple fish gnawing on the red brick corner of the building.