My great-uncle used to live down in Sheridan Hollow when I was very little. His house there is long, long gone; a fire destroyed the building and a parking lot now occupies the corner. On a short cut through the old neighborhood this past autumn, I passed that corner for the first time in years. The asphalt paving had crumbled away to reveal a surprisingly elegant pattern of bricks beneath.
Many of these fine old brick streets languish beneath the asphalt. Whenever they were excavating around my Hometown (Cincinnati) there would always be a layer of brick under there somewhere.
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