Under The FDR Drive

This morning I walked alongside the Brooklyn Bridge out to the East River. These broken posts are under the bridge, I think they are the remains of an old pier. The river is actually a tidal estuary and right away I could taste salt in the air from the ocean.



The tide must have been moving in because some of the posts were disappearing under the water, looking a little like sea creatures.

The East River Greenway is all concrete, the rumbling of the FDR overhead competes with the sound of the tide slapping against the rocks. It is strange and beautiful with old men casting fishing lines from the walkway.



It ends abruptly with a long stretch of municiple storage buildings and parking which block the water. No more waves, no salt air, just the vibrations of traffic.

At the end of the buildings, a path returns, so old with a rusted handrail, beautiful decay.





I would like to go back in different light, maybe on my bicycle so I can span the sprawling distances. I want to explore the East River Park. There is a modern style band shell that has fallen on hard times. I would have photographed it, but there was a jogger running up and down the steps in the seating area, Rocky-style. It might be pretty in the winter.