Beneath my feet, the city breathes, but everything reaches toward the sky. The towering skyscrapers, immense columns of glass, seem to defy gravity, as if each floor added to the vertigo.
The Taïpei skyline is not just architecture, it is vertigo in motion, a poem reaching toward infinity, where each building tells a story of ambition, a dream that dares to touch the heavens.
From the street, I look up, and the horizon is inverted. The clouds become neighbors with the facades, the steel lines cut through the blue sky, and I feel tiny.