I'm wasting my time up here and I know it. The smell of fresh bread just wafting up into the air - oh how can something so small and far disperse so large an aroma! The illusion of tiny people waddling 'round with their trays of deliciousness taunts me; fly down and they will grow to the size of giants, brushing me away with large arms, and if need be, fleeing to the safety of their houses. Their houses - what treasures much those odd-shaped boxes contain? These people spend so much time inside, wandering out in different outfits, always bringing new things in, and new things out. These houses contain such multitudes, is it possible they are larger inside that they appear? Countless numbers of these houses dot the horizon of these cities, towns, villages. So tiny they seem when perched up high. The world is such a tease from a bird's eye view. These distorted perspectives can give one an inflated sense of power, delusions of grandeur. From far enough away, all problems seems simple and small, little buns of fresh-baked bread seem as minuscule as grains of sand, not even worth it. But that heavenly aroma does not lie.