We travel in three dimensions, not two. Though maps and apps show us a flattened reality, we cannot journey without rising and falling. Even if we never climb or descend, there is always an above and a below.
Like the four compass directions - north, south, east and west - up has a nature and character of its own. Is the sky you see bounded by buildings and hills, or does it stretch unbroken to the circling horizon? Does it bend close with thick, grey cloud, or does it offer a spacious vista across spiralling galaxies?
Up, for me, is the realm of possibility and wonder. Birds fly, and my heart soars with them. Even if fog envelopes me, I know the stars still sing in darkness.
I love it when you go up in a plane; rising from mirky grey weather through the clouds into bright blue sunshine. Above, it's another world.