Digital Ink'd

You can discover a compelling collection of this shul on the " Abandoned New York " Instagram page. Despite several attempts, I've never managed to enter this particular synagogue in my neighborhood—it just never panned out. My explorations were further thwarted when the roof collapsed in January before I could explore inside one last time. I considered making an attempt during its demolition, but by then, much of the synagogue had already been dismantled, compromised by its precarious lean against a neighboring occupied apartment building. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we must accept the stark realities of life: we win some, we lose some. In Bedford-Stuyvesant Brooklyn, the Hebrew Israelite congregation once vibrated with the echoes of prayers within the walls of their 19th-century shul. However, a tragic event in 2017 cast a long shadow over this historical edifice. A 71-year-old roofer, while attempting to repair the roof, inadvertently set it ablaze with his to

Brooklyn-Queens Connector (BQX) streetcar project may have gone belly up during the COVID-19 pandemic. It was proposed as a $2.7 billion streetcar linking Red Hook, Brooklyn to Astoria, Queens in 2016 by then-Mayor DeBlasio. Unfortunately, the pandemic put a dent into these plans when the city estimated a $7.4 billion shortfall in their gaping budget as tax revenue plunged when businesses and people were put on "pause" for months. An environmental review did not even start yet before it was nixed. Public meetings have not been forthcoming and during this time the Trump administration was not in the mood to help with federal funding of mass public transit in New York City.     As you can see in the video above by the Brooklyn Eagle , the media presentation mockup showcases the Alstom Citadis tram, the very same one that rots away now, which was featured in a late 2017 campaign to promote the proposed Brooklyn-Queens Connector. This streetcar line aims to connect Red Hook in

  Years had passed since my last trek through the crumbling corridors of this former industrial workhouse, its demise a poignant reminder of time's relentless march. Yet, drawn once again to the allure of abandoned places, my friend A and I embarked on a journey to the bountiful abandonment mecca of Connecticut. I first stumbled upon this place in the early days of Google Street View's infancy, a tool that revolutionized urban exploration. With just a few clicks, explorers like myself could find, verify, and scout locations from the comfort of our own homes. As I honed my skills, Google Maps pins multiplied, guiding me to remote sites far from my doorstep. Approaching the former industrial site, it was evident that security was lax, a fact betrayed by the gaping holes in the fence and the numerous open doorways. Nature had begun its reclamation, tall weeds and bushes concealing our approach as we made our way toward the yawning entrance. As we ventured inside, the emptiness of