One day I found myself on a quiet side street in an industrial park in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. I was lost. My feet ached from walking. I was cold and wet from rain and snow and feeling more than a little out of place. My growing anxiety was placated only by the rich texture of a story unfolding around me. Looking down at the rain soaked street I caught a glimpse of place scarred by change but surviving the rampant passage of time.
I paused to give thanks for the sun which had come out to warm my back.