gift boxes 101
bejeweled jewelry boxes
I have always been drawn to Taipei 101 not for its height, but for the care embedded in its details — a skyscraper that rewards slow looking, one tier at a time.
From a nearby hotel room, these stacked sections always felt like little jewel boxes to me, especially in this edit where the glass catches the light. Even years later, the building still feels deliberate and ornate, carrying a sense of culture and craft that goes beyond measurements or records.
Revisiting this image after watching Alex Honnold’s recent urban free solo ascent gave me a renewed appreciation for vertical spaces — not just as architecture to admire, but as something physical, demanding, and alive. Seeing the tower through the lens of movement and human effort reshaped how I relate to details I’ve loved for years.
I am not a climber, but I have come away with a deeper respect for the discipline, focus, and courage the sport demands — whether at the elite level or in everyday climbing gyms. It’s a reminder that iconic structures aren’t only meant to be seen from the ground; they are also places where design, engineering, and human ambition intersect.
Taipei 101 may no longer be the tallest, but in character, culture, and beauty, it still stands apart.
I came to this image through architecture, but I am now seeing it through climbing.
Revisited after watching Skyscraper Live (Netflix, January 24, 2026).
Original capture: February 2016
gift boxes 101
bejeweled jewelry boxes
I have always been drawn to Taipei 101 not for its height, but for the care embedded in its details — a skyscraper that rewards slow looking, one tier at a time.
From a nearby hotel room, these stacked sections always felt like little jewel boxes to me, especially in this edit where the glass catches the light. Even years later, the building still feels deliberate and ornate, carrying a sense of culture and craft that goes beyond measurements or records.
Revisiting this image after watching Alex Honnold’s recent urban free solo ascent gave me a renewed appreciation for vertical spaces — not just as architecture to admire, but as something physical, demanding, and alive. Seeing the tower through the lens of movement and human effort reshaped how I relate to details I’ve loved for years.
I am not a climber, but I have come away with a deeper respect for the discipline, focus, and courage the sport demands — whether at the elite level or in everyday climbing gyms. It’s a reminder that iconic structures aren’t only meant to be seen from the ground; they are also places where design, engineering, and human ambition intersect.
Taipei 101 may no longer be the tallest, but in character, culture, and beauty, it still stands apart.
I came to this image through architecture, but I am now seeing it through climbing.
Revisited after watching Skyscraper Live (Netflix, January 24, 2026).
Original capture: February 2016