Rain
They'd always found something spiritual in the rain. No matter if they were in Scarsdale with their mothers shouting at them to come in before they got sick, or if they were in the heart of Alphabet City with trash floating down the streets on streams of water into gutters and hobos rushing past to find shelter. The rain was a religion that they had always shared, as long as they both could remember. It has started as mud fights in downpours when they were kids and turned into dancing in storms as they got older. Now it was quiet, peaceful, and tranquil; almost like prayer. One of them would wait anxiously for the other to wake up or get home from work. Then they would abandon their shoes and head to the roof. There was no more dancing or running around flinging handfuls of rich mud. There was silence and the rain. The two would perch on the lawn chairs (that Collins had "found" somewhere) just staring out over the city and getting soaked, both lost in their own thoughts. Neither of them asked what the other was thinking. No words were needed. In that space in time there were no strummed guitar chords and the whir of the camera was left in the loft. All they needed was each other and the rain.