When I first moved to Brooklyn, I barely registered that my home was near a park. See, this park was more concrete than green, and most of that green was turf. This park was long and narrow, and flanked by tall municipal buildings that just look like they’re about to levy you a fine. This park, I was told, created a ferocious wind tunnel that whipped through the neighborhood, my street in particular, at ten times the speed of, you know, the other wind. When I first…
