Our building has a sign on the roof door that says no access. I have chosen, personally, to move past that.
My neighbor Greg told me about it. He heard it from whoever lived in his unit before him, who apparently hauled a lawn chair up there every Friday night. I respect that deeply. I’ve been carrying on the legacy.
Last Thursday I went up with a hoodie that was one layer short of adequate and a bag of the ridged chips, which are the only chips worth buying. Sat down on the concrete and just looked up for a while. City sky, so not exactly the Milky Way, but enough. A few stars, a blinking plane, someone a few floors down playing music I couldn’t fully make out. I left my phone in my pocket the whole time.
Nothing was solved. Nothing was figured out.
Twenty minutes is apparently all my nervous system requires to stop acting like the world is ending. I went back up again two nights later.