Dark, troubling, dirty, fascinating Newtown Creek. Boat ride, yesterday. There were lectures going on and I’m sure they were good, but the action was downstairs at the back of the boat. You want them to succeed, you want them to clean it up, make it wonderful and new, but part of you doesn’t because it is so darkly perfect as it is.
The Gowanus gets more press, more prestige like a criminal who’s badder and committed more crimes. There’s a air of neglect about Newtown, something fallen and forgotten. It’s more serene: wider, winding, and a bit more rustic. If you didn’t get up close and smell the smell, you might not ever guess. Shhh, New York’s best kept secret.