I want to tell you about why I love rooftops. When I was a kid, there was a rooftop beneath my bedroom window. I climbed out onto it a lot, mainly because I could. My parents had no idea, obviously. The best part was when I figured out how to climb off the edge of the roof into my backyard and then climb back on, because it meant I could sneak in and out of my house without anyone knowing. So in the third grade, I secretly packed myself an ‘adventure survival kit’ with granola bars, a compass, and candy. I just knew that one day I was going to make a great escape, and I wanted to be as prepared as possible.

I guess I only really started breaking loose during my middle school years. I was an angsty kid. That’s when I started using the roof to sneak out past midnight to hang with friends, or go do other stupid teenage things. When my relationship with my parents went to complete shit, the roof became my refuge away from screaming matches. I’d lock my bedroom door, climb out the window, and sit on the roof barefoot with a blanket ...