The paper district crouches atop a small rise, tucked between the glass merchants to the west and the woodworkers to the south. The tumble of closely packed buildings, shot through by a maze of winding alleyways, seem piled atop one another in a great heap – a single edifice, set apart from the rest of the city across the wide cobblestoned gulf where Spring Street carves around the base of the hill. To some it is a welcoming burrow, to others a forbidding labyrinth. At first glance, its windows overlook naught but the grey stones below and the blue skies above, but if you follow closely the right passages you will discover vantage points that open onto wide vistas revealing the city behind or the world ahead.