you took my hand and never gave it back

Roofs of Vasastan,Stockholm.
We would climb on top of those buildings,forget all the routines and watch how other people go to work and come from work.Migratory birds would fly above the city and a mild autumn breeze would blow my hair gently at my face.At night we'd burn candles and stare the blurry city lights.We would be the first ones awake and the last ones to fall asleep.