On the F Train in Brooklyn, pulling into the 4th Avenue station in Gowanus after gliding through the currently-rehabbing Smith Street Station. How do others see this view? The landscape and cityscape blinking in late afternoon sun, the view across the water to Governor's Island and the piers, the chalky sky and towering, obstinate BQE, the backs of billboards, the nearness of anonymous windows, church steeples and industrial roofs, water towers and graffiti, red brick alight—it's all urban gorgeous to me, in its blight. But I don't live here. I romanticize here, I see here in bits and pieces of my choosing, can leave here when I wish, though it's often before I wish. This view to those who stay? Colors, textures in a language I've yet to learn, and too often fool myself into believing would be easy to pick up.