The view from 185 Canal Street. Deserted red brick buildings, their chimneys maintaining a cold smokeless defense. Boarded up
doorways, overgrown with foilage. Perfectly splintered glass filling
areas were windows once gleamed.
Slide through the half opened rusty fence and you find yourself along
the Housatonic. Benches dirty and empty; the couples who once sat
looking out over the waters, a distant memory.
The Locks, marking the namesake of Canal Street, the gates now broken and weak no longer in functioning condition.
It's amazing what you may find when you go where you haven't gone before.
Jenna and I enjoying the famous New Haven style pizza!
Much Love.
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