Monsieur Gustave Cazin

He looked upon the finished tower, at dusk, as in this sacred hour the city lights reflect so loudly and silent bats are flying proudly, the structure was a masterpiece. Gustave went down on his French knees to thank le Dieu for inspiration, allowing him infatuation to build this wonder of the world. When in his head a gremlin curled iself and wrapped its closest neighbour inside its claws, then stuck its saber into the heart of all sane thinking. He smelled the fear of slowly sinking, his vison blurred and sparks ignited those structures, previously delighted, and within seconds, battlecries hurled echoes out through both his eyes. He staggered slowly to the lift to now ascend what his mind's gift had built and happily presented, (and no one knew he was demented) . The view from there, like any height inspires awe and sometimes fright. A step too far, its brash demands to bring what now he understands a closure to his undertaking. The time is now, he is awaking. To not run out of what man needs, the catalyst for all his deeds, he takes a last gigantic breath, lets go of it to meet his death.