When a new year rolls around, I think about high places. Skyscrapers and mountains. Bridges and balconies. Even little stepladders and school desks for clambering up.
Many years ago, I spent a carefree New Year’s Eve with newbie colleagues on the 63rd floor of Swissotel The Stamford, once the planet’s tallest hotel. The Singapore we had grown up in looked almost exotic from our vertiginous glass balcony.