telling me it's wrong to want more than a folk song
Josephine is as of yet unsure as to how this whole 'mysterious city one can be randomly transported to at any given moment, however inconvenient' situation works, exactly, but she knows that it's going to keep happening, so when she turns up with shopping bags from earlier and her clothes from a dance lesson still on (she'll miss teaching it when she inevitably leaves), she sighs, amusedly resigned, at nothing, and simply surrenders herself to the will of this place. There are worse places to turn up, and she's learned to roll with the strange pretty well in the past couple of years. Besides, at least it's scenic.
So: she has found herself a flat rooftop to hang out on. What is with this girl and heights, no one will probably ever discern, but she has a radio playing music in Spanish up there, and since the building is only two stories tall (with stairs arcing up the back way, so she didn't jump up there all on her own...although she could have), it's probably audible, drifting down onto street level. She's sitting on the ground, a blanket spread out beneath her, with her shopping bags nearby, a bottle of something alcoholic on the roof's ledge, and her camera in her lap as she fiddles with its exposure.
Later she'll go and be productive.
For now she's just idly heightening Xanadu's level of noise pollution, apparently.