New York is an undeniable concrete jungle. Manhattan is a land of spires, buildings that threaten to tear the sky asunder. The windows of the aforementioned reflect most everything - save for the extremities of the soul. As much as the smooth crystalline sheets become the surface water of the soul, there is a jarring jaggedness to their shapes. For those seeking soft, silent reprieve from the stiletto-staccato walks of the city, we seek out the outer boroughs.
For the longest time, I’ve regarded Brooklyn, Queens, and the Bronx as mere environs of the city proper. (Staten Island isn’t a borough no matter what people say. Sorry.) Actually, I still think that. Whoops.
Yet, there is truly something remarkable about the character, the feel, the ambiánce (stress the accent mark, it makes it classy) that can be found beyond asphalt roads. In this case, the roads are lined with stone.
DUMBO is a cobble-lined oasis of a neighborhood.
Continue reading ‘Enchanted Down-Under’
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