I'd call it: How the Other Half Lives.

So this evening I did something I've put off doing since the day I was born: I drove around in my dream neighborhood.  I suppose we all have one of those ... a place where the architecture is appealing, or the trees are mature and foresty.  This place for me is both, and to make it perfect, the neighborhood sits on a side of a mountain.  Not a hill.  A tall, towering mountain.

From the topmost streets in my dream neighborhood the views are unbelievable, like you've stepped out of an airplane onto a patio.  But the weird part is, and was, I've never viewed my home city from the perspective from which I saw it tonight.  The perspective turned my city surreal; almost unrecognizable.  I was looking down on it, after all.  I saw where the land swells and falls, and realized how building upon the land didn't flatten it the way it seems from living down there.  I saw the roofs of buildings set against the city-scape rather than the rise of buildings set against the sky.  It was fabulous.

The mountain itself looked so different it was almost like being in Zermatt and staring up at the alps.  If you've ever done that you'll recall the alps are right there, for all the world looking like giant cardboard cut-outs, like if you touched them you'd find them as flat as a painted set.  And stranger still, the mountain, which I've always viewed as a whole, is really a rolling crest of hills that eventually become the mountain.

Something to aspire to!