The domestic towers pile up higher and closer to the city, like tourists clustering at the luggage carousel. At the airport, you can't see your case and if everyone stepped back a little, everyone could see, everyone could benefit. But they edge forward, wanting, needing the best view.
These buildings are immovable mini-mountains, growing taller with each undulation against the earth. And the people will move into them, "Oh look at my kitchen! See how very shiny and white everything is? I've made it, this is living," until the next rupture of soil under the pummeling rods of metal monsters indents a new cave for cars, and men in high-viz vests erect another massive Lego block on top of it.
There goes your idyllic view of the city, that you only glanced at over a stressed cigarette or to whimsically show off to visiting friends.
Your property value is surely going to drop with that off-white lump in the way.
Ugh, progress. Gentrification. It's disgusting. This used to be a nice area - when my building was the tallest, and I had the clearest view.