Day eight: Along the Gowanus Canal, Cobble Hill, and Carroll Gardens

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In the months before I began this project and departed San Francisco, I vividly remembered my dreams upon waking each morning. Now in Brooklyn, because of the constant external inspiration I find during my walks for 71 square miles, I can no longer recall them. I’ve always been curious about the subconscious: how our minds connect experiences, the evolution of connections over our lifetimes, and the organization of these resulting beliefs into a personal religion that is visible in every action we take. I have been viewing the city through the lens of the intuitive act and looking for signs of the belief systems behind each recognized.

A few questions I asked myself yesterday while walking about:

Why do we seek the dramatic? Are soap operas the female version of glorified battle if child birth is our war?

 From where do these giant boulder sidewalk slabs in Park Slope originate? Who decided this neighborhood should have such fancy ground and why?

Did the person laying the bricks of this building have a lover at the time it was built? Was this adulterous?

Do people have obsessive compulsive disorder in Tijuana, Mexico? In what format?

Are other people drawn to repetition in everything, or do I find it beautiful because I am heavily freckled? Is repetition visual meditation?

How in the world did this happen?

Did someone steal another person’s Chinese food? Did they know it was Chinese food when they grabbed it? Did they use chop sticks or a fork?

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  1. I read that and listened to this

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