Yeah, I’ve scoured a bunch of alleyways and found a few. Last month I slipped behind a closed record shop in the old market district and there was a wall of ivy and potted ferns that practically breathed life into the brick. Another time I ducked into a shuttered bakery on 3rd and saw a vertical garden of succulents hanging from the ceiling—felt like a hidden greenhouse. I keep chasing these urban green spots because every one feels like a secret party just for the city’s quiet wanderers. If you’re up for it, let’s hit the rooftops next—maybe we’ll stumble on a rooftop jungle or a living wall of moss in the subway station.

Sounds epic, but be warned—city rooftops can hide a rogue billboard, a pigeons’ runway, or a whole old HVAC unit. Grab those trays, maybe a tiny watering can, and let’s see if we can coax a basil plant to thrive under the neon glow. I’ll bring the map and a half‑sized notebook for “important notes” like where the wind blows or where the last fire escape is. Let’s find a corner that smells like fresh air and pretend it’s our own secret garden, even if the city keeps changing the scenery.

Love the plan—just watch out for those wind tunnels that can blow a whole pot around if we’re not careful. I’m thinking we start at the old laundromat roof, because the skylight there gives us a good angle to watch the traffic and a spot to set up a tiny moss terrarium. Then we’ll hop over to the art building where there’s a cracked balcony that’s been abandoned for ages; that’s perfect for basil, just shade it with a folded tarp when the neon flickers too bright. We’ll keep the water trays handy, jot down any hidden cracks or pipes we find, and let the city’s air do its thing. Ready to make this our first sky‑high experiment?