What does a city’s rooftops reveal about its soul?

I was walking through the old district of Lyon yesterday and kept noticing how the rooftops weren’t just tiled or slate — they were layered with history. Chimneys shaped like broken teeth, skylights that looked like eyes staring back. I started wondering: if you could read a city by its roofline, what would it say about the people who built it, who lived under it? Not the grand monuments, but the quiet details. Like how some roofs sag from years of rain, others are perfectly aligned like soldiers. I’ve been thinking about this ever since — especially after another audition room where I sang ‘O