The top is a good place to look at things from. You can get a expansive view, without having to strain your neck. You are almost flying, and the filthy ground, an unpleasant shade of brown, is far far away. You are also under the constant peril of falling to your death, besides the danger of being stung to death by bees. To be fair to the bees though, you getting stung is a greater problem for them than it is for you, considering that the worker bee dies after losing it's sting. So you can only pray that the bee is smart enough to cover it's ass (literally and figuratively) and stay away from you. But at 80 feet in the air, you are more concerned about that itch on your sole than you are about flying arthropods; i would prefer anaphylactic shock over fall from 80 feet any day. Bring it on.
Bees? How did they enter the discussion? Bees enter whatever they want, whenever they want, so i'm not delving into that question anymore. Yeah, the top, back on track. So the top is also round and charred black under the intense heat of that diabolical Bengal sun. The sun gives life, but it gets a little annoying when the energy starts overwhelming one; everybody likes crackers, but then bombs aren't that much fun ,are they? The limestone is tanned and is peeling off, and the center of the dome looks tempting,as I look on clinging to the edge. I deliberately look down past my feet again, past the ladder rails, down to the inviting earth many feet underneath me, just for the epinephrine rush. I get that elusive hormone running, and a little shudder passes up my spine out through my hands. The last ladder was the longest one, and it hangs threateningly at an acute angle between the last platform and the top. The only thing that you can see looking down is the thin air. A couple of birds perched on the edge chirp in a barbed taunt. I plant my feet on the top. The ladder is out of my thoughts for the moment. We'll deal with it on the way down. Oh darn, not the bees again.
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