Get out, walk about twenty yards away from the river, just on the other side of the lot, and you’ll be standing in a tattered field of grass that seems to be hiding the foundations of some cauldron of industry rusted down to its roots. There’s a hole there. A two story drop in the earth, girded up by old railroad ties and iron. Stand there some night for while and you’ll hear them. The sound comes out of the earth. The ground shakes. And then the train goes by underneath you. Feet away. An entire train past this little window into the past and when it’s gone you realize you’re standing inside a steelmill. What was. The trains still come and go, delivering regardless, running in an underground trestle the length of the Southside, which is why sometimes at night, when you’re out late enjoying the bustle and flow of Pittsburgh’s hippest neighborhood, you can hear one right on top of you and still have no idea where it is or for that matter, where you are.