I am all ready for bed and turning out the lights. I make my way slowly around the room, one by one, and then I walk towards the window. There are three glass panels which take up one whole wall. I push aside the gauze and reach for the heavy curtains bunched up near the wall. Then I notice. The sky has cleared. For the first time the whole city appears before me as if at my feet. I rush to turn out my bedside light and stand in the darkness gazing out at the beautiful carpet of lights before me. I am in awe.
The colours twinkle on the horizon in waves, following the curve of the mountains. From the distant hills the buildings seem to cascade down a slope towards the river, garlands of colour. The city has the shape of an old roman ampitheatre and I am standing all alone on the stage looking up at it. In the distance, like a watchtower, I can see Taipei 101, a lone guard surveying the sweep of the city.
I can do nothing but sit and watch and wonder at the millions of lives that surround me. I am lost in the spectacle of this bejewelled night.