Up from the row of grey subway steps, into the sunlight. I started walking a bit hastily, not quite sure which way to go. I was looking for Brooklyn College, but the area I came upon was a fairly rough-looking one. Small brownstones, shattered stoops, bent ironwork railings, mismatched curtains, radios propping open the windows. Music wafted out and seemed to hang in the air, then drop. Women sat on the steps, with the street-corner stare of those who have seen too much. They looked along a row of dented cars and broken fire hydrants.