When Brooklyn Wasn’t Cool: A Review of Gowanus Crossing
Old English poets (not T.S. Elliot in his later years but those Anglo Saxon guys before the Norman invasion), when not being hacked up by Vikings or scorched by dragons, would often tear up in the presence of Roman ruins. They’d plop down on a shattered stone, marble shard or something, take in all the decay of once magnificent structures, and imagine those doomed overlords having a fine old time…










