In Bloomfield, facing the train station, some old buildings converge in an odd way, creating a funnel, at the narrow end of which is a junk-strewn dead end and a dilapidated, seemingly abandoned apartment building.
To the left is the skeleton of an old furniture store. What signs once hung in the empty, rusted steel frames? To the right, the blank brick facade of an institutional building, unidentified by any sign, but with powerful security lights fastened to its walls.
How did this unlikely reverse cornucopia come to be? Reverse in the sense that instead of a bountiful harvest spilling out of it, garbage collects within it.
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