This is the view from my favorite New York rooftop — the rooftop of the apartment I sublet in August when I first moved here. Before I moved out of there, I was walking and, you know, I just slipped and the key to the stairwell fell right into the key-copying machine at the hardware store. Today I climbed the 6 flights of stairs and perilous metal ladder to have a solitary picnic. I looked out at the city, remembering what it was like to set eyes on that skyline for the first time. I used to sit up there for hours and imagine the pathways I would take to penetrate Manhattan, wondering what stops I would make and the ground I would cover before I would get to the top of one of those big tall buildings. I haven’t been up to that roof in months, having been insulated in the core of that concrete labyrinth. But now I am on the outside looking in again, plotting my next point of entry like life is just a game of Capture the Flag.