For air and space, we went upstairs to admire the roof. There were famous buildings on several sides, and anonymous people in buses and on foot passing below. There was conversation. A plane passed, blinking, then something that must have been a satellite.

So listen: maybe the lack of stars in a city is designed to make you miss where you're from. Or just to not draw attention away from the walls and lights down here. It always surprises me, but then, i am a sky-looker. Where i live now has fewer stars than where my parents live, and i remember when i was very small, my father woke me took me on his shoulders out into a field, to pick out constellations from the overwhelming stars.

Here the stars are underwhelming, but that may be a good thing, because so much else is over-. The few feeble constellations that show up are an anchor.

My grandmother
told me once
that a city has
enough windows
for everybody.

I still want to believe her.1
Some people, believe it or not, may still be working tonight. The roof is well-decorated with friends, as they make any room better. jm229 and fuct talk about music, others talk about geosynchronous orbit, we all use each other's real names, people wander around. The roof it begs for a garden. Eventually, several people leave.

1. Brian Andreas, City Windows.

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