THE ROOFTOP ROOM FILLS ITSELF WITH SAILBOATS for Hannah Zeavin There’s a slow sailboat that passes through the little stretch of river I can see from the rooftop, and if every time I came up to the rooftop, it passed so slowly so stately so completely enclosed in the unreachable realm of passing sailboats, then it would be just like you, my secretive friend. When I was a child, I found a secret room that I could always go to, and I made a secret vow to always go there. If I had known in my child mind that later and always I would be halved by a thin, white sail every time I entered, would I have made such a childish, unbreakable vow? Too late.
