Today I climbed a rotting fence to a freedom.

I evaded telephone wires that may have been alive.

I placed my wounded feet, the ones caked in white sneaker, on creaky, soft, dangerous roofs that probably came close to collapsing, if not once then twice.

I trusted in the highest ‘rung’ of that old, wooden, useless fence to support my weight and I rose higher than I’ve been since climbing that tree with you.

I clambered over the metal roof onto the siding that felt more solid beneath me. I smiled, I thought about how I was happy, how I was taking a risk, about how this action (like every single other one I’ve taken in the past few months) would worry someone and convince them I’m mentally ill.

I opened my arms to the mountain air.

I watched the sun set its kiss on the Bridgers, I watched the heavens crack and spill golden light onto treetops,

I saw magic dripping down, all over us, from above. I was atop an abandoned building. An out of commission building, or so I thought, until the man with the neon cap screamed.