
This cropping of abandoned and burned down boat clubs along Sherman
Creek close to the Harlem River, evoked feelings of oceanic travels
from a time long passed.According to a volunteer at the Sherman Creek Park beside this site, the Parks Department and
New York Restoration Project are in discussions as to who can work on
this plot of land. Considering the state of the area, it's a big
responsibility to lay claim to the land. Who knows what is under all
that debris.
Inwood has always reminded me of the sea. Maybe it is the smell of the salt marsh in Inwood Hill Park.

Walking along the ruins of the boat house with its shingles and wood frame I could almost hear the laughs and songs of captains and their mates.
Peaking inside for a closer look I saw a mantle on its side, perhaps they leaned there to sing their songs?
Though this house was likely most recently used for less wholesome fare than a song and a pint...
The Cutty Sark whistles and sings "Dear dirty London in the pouring rain, I wish to god I was back in the sea again."
"Though that belongs to the world of never will be, there was never a wilder bastard than me on the sea."
The rules of the sea are not so different from that on the land.
The buildings burned earlier this year and the firemen put them out,
but when all was said and done, who will remember the boat clubs?
Remnants lie like a limp body, craining out into the sun.
Trying to see what is real, what they can.
A belly exposed.
A face twisted and made hard from years of neglect.
This area of Inwood is not of this time.

The Bronx is across the water, none the wiser of this wasteland.

And down the river, a whole new world lies in wait.
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