The High Life.

There I was mixing sand and cement to make concrete for a job in the garden. And a chill wind blew, and a reluctant sun peeked shyly around the cloud base occasionally, and a heady (and unusually pungent) aroma of muck spreading filled the air to remind me of natural imperatives. So who needs a penthouse?

Trump Tower? Nah. It has been noted that big things are often coveted by small people (and vice versa.)