After my five week absence from Brooklyn, I am starting to get back into my Carroll Gardens groove. The first load of laundry is swishing in the machine as I write this, all the bills have been sorted and (mostly) payed and I even managed to sleep through the night, my body slowly getting on Brooklyn time.
A walk down Smith and Court was the absolute wake-up: I am not in the Auvergne any more...
Now I know that I tend not to see the trash here in New York when I go about my daily life, but when I have been gone and come back, i am always amazed by the overflowing trash cans, by the piles of black bags filled with refuse just dragged to the corner and by all the wrappers and chewing gum littering the sidewalk. I just spent two days walking around Paris, and let me tell you, it was pretty darn clean, with beautiful plantings everywhere and parks that we can only dream of here in this city.
As I was walking on Court with Mr.Pardon Me and Moody Teen son, I was shocked. Is this really my beloved Brooklyn? Do I really live here, did I really choose to raise kids here? I know, I know, I will settle in again. In time, I will even overlook the trash once more, but really, New York is incredibly filthy.
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