Wide shot from the rooftop of a sixteen-story panel building at sunset, a young man sitting on the concrete parapet edge with his legs hanging over the city. He has dark curly hair lifting in the high wind, a worn flannel over a tee, sneakers hooked on the ledge, a paper bag of sunflower seeds in one hand, phone face-down beside him. He faces away from the camera, looking out over the sprawl: blocks of identical panel buildings stretching to the horizon, their flat roofs a geometric landscape of water towers, ventilation shafts, and satellite dishes, courtyards between them with tiny visible playgrounds, a river cutting the city in a wide silver band reflecting the last sun, bridges crossing it in dark lines. Pigeons wheel around the roof in a slow spiral, two of them settled on the parapet near him, unbothered. His shadow stretches long and thin across the gravel rooftop behind him. Below in a courtyard, someone is walking a dog, visible as a moving dot; a train crosses the far edge of the frame in a streak of silver. The sky grades from deep blue at the top through orange to a burning pink at the horizon.
