Red Hook

A perfect, unexpected day. Tacos in the park, friends gathered on the grass, bikes and swimming and beer sipped from plastic cups on a pier. The industrial tint of the New York harbor in shades of gray and green, of black burned out factories and skeletal piers rusting into the sea, and grasses growing along the stone walls of melting buildings, their glassless windows gapin, eye sockets looking out toward the Statue of Liberty. Stalled bobcats sit still on a Saturday afternoon, amongst the rubble, the land soon to be a showcase for affordable throw pillows from Sweden. Fairway and artist lofts, boat moorings and cool, eclectic bars. A wasteland, a jackpot, a peaceful corner of the city. For how long, I wonder? One day, this entire city will be full of condos and coffee shops, and then it will all fall into decay again, only to be torn down again and rebuilt again. It doesn’t matter where you are, nature always wins. But for today, it was good friends and laughter and taking it easy, letting the day lead us softly by the elbow.