I love Brooklyn for its vastness. Thomas Wolfe once wrote a story about being unable to truly know Brooklyn. Despite the truth of his fiction, I attempted the impossible.

Last week was one of the first days when you can feel autumn in the air. The shadows get longer, the daylight is shorter, people are outside enjoying the warm weather because they sense that next month at this time, it won’t be the same. It was a Thursday evening, and I couldn’t bear taking the normal bike route home – I wanted to go where I’d never been before, I wanted to go to Red Hook.

This area of town is unreachable by Subway, but can be walked to from the G/F train in Gowanus. A bus also goes there. It’s full of old abandoned industry, dockyards, and warehouses. Looking down the cobblestone streets to the water, you really get a sense of old Brooklyn – before the bridge was built and before it was part of New York. It was desolate, and I was struck by a time transcending feeling. Down on the Fairway, staring out at the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island, and seeing the late summer light shimmer on the water, I didn’t even spend too long taking it in – I walked through and went to Diego’s, a nice Mexican fusion restaurant.