I am mesmerized by this photo of roof in Greece, taken by my niece (hey, I rhyme!).
The weathered slate, the overlapping chipped tiles that had seen more winters than any human could and many more still before they had been hewed into order by mankind to provide heavy, steady, shelter from rain and wind and sun.
The stark contrast of the chimney stone. Orderly. Newish. Mortar sandwiched between bricks. Standing out like a new-kid-on-the-block yet in truth only relatively … for it, too, had already seen life’s smoke swirl up to numerously different skies.
Even the odd bits. Leaning, slanted. Metal. Wood. A ledge. A mini-roof covered by yet another one. Mismatched and somehow all part of this layered shelter. Angled. Rough. Tangible.
A roof to rely on.