What does a city’s rooftops reveal about it?

I was flying over Lyon last week—low pass, just above the rooftops—and something struck me. Not the bridges or the river, but the way the tiles tilted toward the sun, how the chimneys were arranged like old bones. It wasn’t just architecture. It was memory. I’ve flown over enough cities to know that rooftops tell you more than streets ever will: where people lived, what they heated, when they built and when they abandoned. So I ask—what’s the last city you looked at from above, and what did its roofline say to you?