Tags » Photowalks

well realized

The native art form of Queens, in today’s post.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Venturi. That’s technically the name of the flame structure which a stove top burner is meant to form when gas is pumped through it and ignited by a pilot light. 281 more words

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not describe

You really just have to love them Astoria industrial zones.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

While performing a perambulation back to Astoria’s southern border where Our Lady of the Pentacle and myself maintain our HQ, 233 more words

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drifting sand

Sigh… the Steinway Mansion, in today’s post.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

On the subject of controversies I generally stay away from, the Steinway Mansion… 644 more words

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attempt at

Cool Cars of Astoria, in today’s post.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Wandering around the forbidden northern coast of Queens one day, a humble narrator happened across another one of those historic vehicles which are referred to at this – your Newtown Pentacle – as “Cool Cars” in Astoria. 391 more words

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parched and terrible

Hello 114th precinct, it’s me again.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Since my last post on this subject, concerning “Los Borrachos” on Astoria’s Broadway, the 114th precinct has definitely been doing “something.” Can’t say exactly what, but the population of these alcoholic mendicants has been visibly reduced from the mid July high of 20-25 down to a late August bakers dozen. 768 more words

Pickman

gleam and grin

Checking in on that little bit of construction occurring down in DUKBO.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The Kosciuszko Bridge replacement project is in full swing these days, and there’s a small army of optic orange clad construction workers at work in that shallow valley between Laurel and Berlin Hills which has always provided a border betwixt LIC’s Blissville and West Maspeth’s Berlin neighborhoods. 614 more words

Pickman

victoriously swept

If the bridge wasn’t there, it would be impossible to recognize Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Mephitic vapors, the effluent of furnaces and forges, a vague scent of molasses, and the smell of freshly smoked crack cocaine used to be all you needed to recognize where you were when visiting Williamsburg. 602 more words

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