The rain threw itself on me as I walked the streets of Staten Island wondering what it would look like exactly two years to the day from that moment when Hurricane Sandy’s wrath beat itself against everything it could find.
Not much has changed, except that the water levels are down.
Mold and debris permeates the neighborhoods, rats run the streets at night, geese feed in puddles and fly patterns over the destruction.
A dumpster sits fully loaded with construction waste and empty beer boxes next to a dead-end sign and eerie shadows lurk in dark basements visible through cracks in boarded windows.
What is keeping us from fixing this? I don’t have the answers. Wish I did.
