Clarence realized that everyone around him was erecting towers from which they could stand and shout.
“Hey lookey at me, I’m up on a tower!”
“Oh man, ah, elevation!”
Their self-indulgent irony soaked and curdled in his bones like meatloaf grease. Everyone built towers, no one took themselves seriously, but no one stopped building towers.
So Clarence built a tower too. He did not speak as he climbed to the top, nor did he make any joking proclamations. Aware of his every move and uncaring, he wrote down every fascinating thing he saw from up there, every tower and sunset.