It’s 9am on a rainy Saturday morning. While most of Wilmington is sleeping in, sipping coffee, or recovering from last night, I have just jumped from a fenced-off loading dock into a puddle of water and now find myself with wet socks in the cellar of an abandoned shipping terminal on N. Front Street.
Written by
Brian Blackmon on November 6, 2009 | Posted in
Essays,
Feature,
Living
Dressed in a fairly conspicuous lumberjack outfit, sporting corduroy pants, a thick flannel shirt, and heavy leather boots, I’m sure I look out of place pacing up and down a deserted urban street plotting the best place to jump a fence and explore a derelict area of the Cape Fear River just for the hell of it.
Written by
Brian Blackmon on October 27, 2009 | Posted in
Essays,
Feature,
Living
