As luck sometimes has it, the Pioneer Valley graciously follows me everywhere. I went to Steel tonight with a friend of a friend from Amherst who goes to school in town here, at Lehigh. We climbed around in the pouring rain for three hours. I've never felt smaller in my life. Or wetter. From the top of the stacks, we looked south up the hill where all the old row houses were lit up like some infinitely expanding runway strip.
Steel is such an anachronistic jumble of nonsensical metal and monolithic towers - even after adjusting to places like New York City, somehow the skyscrapers there now seem small to me. Of course, Bethlehem Steel can't be more than twenty stories high, but it's different scuttling around inside a place like that.
Inside, at the top of one stack, the floors were covered in several inches of glittery dust that we let fall over a railing. We shone lights on the cascade so the whole thing sparkled in a way that made me feel like I could have been on the moon.
Steel is such an anachronistic jumble of nonsensical metal and monolithic towers - even after adjusting to places like New York City, somehow the skyscrapers there now seem small to me. Of course, Bethlehem Steel can't be more than twenty stories high, but it's different scuttling around inside a place like that.
Inside, at the top of one stack, the floors were covered in several inches of glittery dust that we let fall over a railing. We shone lights on the cascade so the whole thing sparkled in a way that made me feel like I could have been on the moon.
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