Dizzying Beauty

In childhood, Vulcan's spiral stairs dizzied me, as did the Statue of Liberty's. I remember, or think I remember, sour-smelling cavities, narrow and shadowed, and metal stairs winding and winding, latticed steps through which I looked down, down growing ever deeper and darker. Even now, I double-fist the rail when I ascend, my guts rumbling, my brain repeating Don't fall!, as I pull myself up.

At least here, there's something beautiful to see even before I reach the top.