Under the Fremont Bridge
Since I’m strangely drawn to dereliction, I couldn’t stop snapping photos of the beat-up stuff, like this dilapidated yet genteel building “teetering between salvation and the wrecking ball,” as Laura O. Foster describes it in her book Portland Hill Walks.
North Portland is gentrifying so fast, I find it unnerving. Somehow it seems like a relief to see buildings and land that the developers haven’t yet gotten their greasy paws on.
I just have no interest in any of the upscale boutiques springing up all over North Mississippi, like the place that sells framed drawings of those legless Fisher Price people—for 300 bucks. But I love places like the lightbulb shop, the Rebuilding Center, and Gravy. And so once again, I must concede that I’m conflicted and hypocritical about gentrification.