I walked home and was arrested by these beautiful views, down consecutive streets running down to the East River, of a gilded Manhattan Bridge in the late afternoon light.
I like the Gothic scale of Dumbo, the cobbled streets, the looming, earthbound feet of the bridges, and their soaring cables. There are still empty, warehoused streets where one can walk alone in the middle of the old cobbles, but new windows are appearing in old buildings as developement continues.
Walking home up the hill from the Fulton Landing to the Brooklyn Promenade, the wind played havoc with my skirt. I thought I had it under control after the first, single upflip Incident, when I got caught in a vicious and continuous eddy on the Promenade level and was reduced to near, half laughing hysteria as the skirt blew about my head and my handbag and drawing tube were dropped, forgotten in my hour of need, as all hands were summoned to control the situation.
I pray that some rabid blogger (like me!) was not ambling along 50 paces behind me with a camera, because if they were, I am toast.