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… it wasn’t just architecture. It felt like the city’s memory. I started wondering: if you could only see a city from above, what would you learn about how people lived there? Not the monuments, not the streets—but where they sheltered, where they patched things, where they gave up and let it rot. I’ve been thinking about this ever since. What do your city’s rooftops say to you?