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Rather than head down the path to the footbridge this evening, I continued along the sidewalk that follows the top edge of the gorge. Just past the stinkiness of the Kodak wastewater treatment plant, the sidewalk crossed a parking lot the edge of which appeared to drop off into the void. It seems any fence that separated it from the gorge itself had been taken away for the winter. Instead, bulldozers had pushed a small mountain's worth of snow straight over the edge. The result of it was an icy precipice. I couldn't bring myself to get closer than four feet from the edge. I haven't trusted my footing since the crunch-flop that landed me with a bunch of hardware in my ankle. Still, it was exhilarating. The cold glare of the lot's lights highlighted the edge beyond which loomed a vast, almost empty black. I knew the river was still down there, and an occasional light pierced the inky dark from the opposite ridge.
There's this little crumbling patch of cemetary across for a portion of Kodak. How goth... I got to traipse through a cemetary at midnight. ***groans a little at the stereotype of it***
