I am naked on the roof and spellbound by the sun, until I see her fixated on my nipples. She’s on a roof across the narrow passage way, wearing a bright red shirt dress. She makes hand gestures at me - you and I are the same, she says, we are tight together. I laugh and sit back down on my deckchair obscured now by the wall around the roof’s perimeter. She is young and her teeth are stained, she is a smoker. We are not the same. I quit cigarettes years ago and I’ll quit this place. I’ll move on to find another sun infested roof where I’ll lay my problems on the suns rays to be transmuted into strength and love. But in this moment we are the same, joined by the sanctuary and the solitude of the roof, at one with the grand central sun.