I do not care for elevators. They are shifty. Bad in an emergency.
I am a stairwell person. Featureless, grimey, flourescent lighting reminescent of middle-of-the-night whereabouts you never admit, even in the day. But they aren’t shifty. Good for emergencies.
Stairwells are solid, spent, sometimes blocked – for people who work – out of fear or necessity.
Elevators, mostly sleek, fast, dependant.
Being locked in a stairwell rubs your nose in anguish. Locked deep inside. Being trapped in an elevator, skirting panic, forever passing the issue, never reaching.
One elegant, one blunt, both can deliver, both can trap. One without effort, one with. I’ll take it the hard way.
Stairwells compel me to pretend I’m a spy chasing a bad guy. Especially if the stairwell is concrete and steel, badly lit with humming flourescent lights.