alexandra alger


A Brooklyn Walk

I was walking home from the southern end of Hicks Street, where I’d taken my car for an inspection, when a bridge appeared in front of me–a metal pedestrian bridge that stretched over the busy four lanes of two-way traffic. In two decades of driving up and down Hicks, I’d never registered the existence of this bridge. Which is really strange, but there it was. Of course, I had to walk across it. Here’s the view north:


And to the east:



There’s nothing like a bridge for a new perspective. Walking on the other side of Hicks now, I passed a slim hardback book sitting on top of a garbage bin.



Will do, I thought. I picked up the book. I was fated to take it, wasn’t I? When I saw it was written by a Google engineer, I decided against it. I wasn’t going to assign Google the power of the universe. Enough already. But I admired the contrast of the vibrant blue against the battered wood. It’s a Brooklyn tradition, to leave books outside for others to take. Granted, most of the books are old, quirky or obscure titles that no one else wants either, but the impulse is nice, I’ve always thought.



Taking Sackett Street east, I passed this evocative painting hanging in a window and realized I knew the painter: Ken Rush, who taught art for many years at my children’s primary and middle school, Packer. What an oddly satisfying 10-minute walk, which began with something new and ended with a memory from the past.

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