What does a city’s rooftops reveal about it?

I was flying over Lyon last week—low pass, just above the roofline—and something struck me. The way the tiles leaned, the gaps between them, the way some were cracked or covered in moss. Not just architecture, but weathered memory. I started wondering: if you could only see a city from above, through its rooftops, what would you know about how people live there? How long they stay, how much they care, whether they’re trying to hold things together or let them go. Not data, not statistics—just that quiet, stubborn surface. What do your rooftops say?