One of my favorite things about my apartment is that I can go up on the roof and hang out. The rooftop is an experience unlike any other. It provides a totally different aspect of the city, and because of this, it facilitates introspection, creativity, and relaxation.
This morning I didn't have class and it was one of the last really nice days we're going to have before winter comes along. The roof was calling me and I couldn't resist its pull. I climbed up there and laid on a blanket in the sun, soaking up the warmth, which the roof's surface reflects back again. Starlings warbled and flew in and out of their nests in the brownstones across the street. Crows like inkblots on the blue sky flew overhead and pigeons, along with an occasional squirrel, came for a morning drink in the stopped-up gutter of my building. See, there is nature within the city.
As the morning progressed, I wrote a letter, read some chapters in a book, and called my mom for a much-needed chat. Fine, wispy clouds came along and hazed the sun, but I was glad because it was getting hot up there. I moved to the shade next to the chimney, but still I couldn't leave.
I watched the workmen gutting the house across the backyard and listened to them talking in an unfamiliar language. I observed other rooftops with their potted plants, astroturf, chimneys like mushrooms sprouting every which way, doors leading to unique and private worlds. Each house here has a distinct and colorful personality, much like their residents. In the distance, the skyscrapers of Manhattan seem bland and indistinctive.
After eating my lunch up on the roof, I finally had to come down and get ready for an afternoon class. But oh, so reluctantly.
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