There was a moment in my life where the roof of my building was my place. I was pretty young and sad.
I remember the lighting, the sun gave me a perfect light, it wasn't too bright, it was a little warm and pale. It was during the fall. I was going there and write poems, stories or just thoughts and fears.
The clothes that were hanging started to make some noise, wind, the beautiful wind was blowing hard, my eyes started to tear, it was a little cold but I didn't care, I held on my note book and kept writing. When I was there I felt free, I didn't have to pretend that I was fine when I wasn't, I cried or screamed if I felt like. I felt dominant and powerful.
The sun's warmth hitting on my face it felt so sweet that it was sad.
I was watching the sun disappear between the buildings and the city was light up.
The time passed by, and I was always going to the roof, to do whatever, bathing sun with a girlfriend, get high with my mother or simply hang the clothes.
I will always be in love with roofs, because I spent a lot of time in the heights.
I almost believed that I was going to grow wings and ... jump off.