The roof arched in semi-organic fashion as if the walls themselves had healed the skyward hole, protecting all that lay within.
In those icy days the roof was kissed white, water and sunlight a gaily dancing disco ball, until the melting hour.
In my daydreams I was upon that rooftop, dancing along the crest, leaping as ballet dancers do.
Upon the roof sit the birds as if it were truly fashioned as their divine perch, their place to sing and play.
The roof felt is the hue of freshly tilled earth, keeping safe the life under its protection, welcoming both rain and sunshine all the year round.
The copper of the auditorium dome is like a beach awash with turquoise waves. It spreads over the imperfect surface, a blemish that only adds to the beauty. In time the roof will only be green and perhaps we'll forget the copper underneath. I'm sure it will be beautiful then, perhaps even more so, but this dome has greeted me every day on my way to buy the morning paper for nearly thirty years and I love it.
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