As New York City embraced an unusually warm weekend, I decided to explore the rooftop of my own building upon sunset.
The highest floor I could reach through the elevator was 58. I knew by experience there will usually be one or two more floors beyond the highest point the elevator could go up. So I found myself on the messy 58th floor, which is under construction everywhere. It was empty and no one was there. It didn't take me much time to push through some exit doors, climb some stairs, and found the door leading to the roof.
What I love the most about the rooftopping, besides the point when you feel the adrenaline pumping in standing on the edge of the skyscrapers, is actually the moment when I push the last door to the roof, when the vast platform jumps in my view and the windy air comes through my body. There is always something beautiful at that exact time, the feelings I cannot describe merely because they are so beyond words and so dependent on personal experiencing. The only thing I can say is that is when I feel I'm most alive and truly existing in this world.
On the rooftop of my building, I saw almost the whole Manhattan, the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan Bridge, and also a part of the Brooklyn view. I climbed through the ladders till the highest point of the rooftop. I sat for a while. I wasn't thinking about anything.
Absolutely nothing.