If I could clone one element from another city I’ve visited, and bring it back to my own hometown, the roads in our neighborhoods would be paved in bricks. Something about the texture calls to mind a time when the world moved more slowly; when neighbors called a halt to the frantic pace of running errands to chat with one another; when trips to town were a treat, a special family affair. Brick streets offer a steady, soothing rhythm underneath the tires of a car; a low hum felt in one’s bones; a comforting companion on a warm spring day with the windows rolled down. Shoes clapping against a brick-paved sidewalk tap out a rhythm not unlike rain on a tin roof in its familiarity.
“The bricks on Short Street gleam after a rainfall,” offering the perfect prompt for Noirish storytelling.
I imagine jogging a meandering brick path through a neighborhood of quiet, stately homes guarded by lush foliage and graced with perfectly manicured lawns, like the one below.
And in the center of the town, a small lake with a fountain in the middle, surrounded by a park with a walking track. Ample parking spaces line one whole side of the park. A brick-paved car park, naturally. Something like this:
Special thanks to The Daily Post for today’s prompt, City Planners.