I used to be much more afraid of the Gowanus Canal than I am now, afraid each time that I'd cross the Union Street Bridge that down there in the rangy muck I would spy a three-headed carp, fearing that just by breathing in its bilious fumes I'd begin to develop a sort of biohazardous condition that would make me glow in the dark. Now, I play ice hockey on a sewage plant up on the Hudson, and my tolerance for gross bodies of water has declined substantially. :gingerly tucks flippers away, resumes writing blog post:
But there is beauty in Gowanus just as there's beauty anywhere else. These small, medieval-looking numbers stamped onto an address plate are a perfect example of the sort of thing you find when you're willing to slow down and look a little more closely.