A weedy lot near the power plant stretched out next to the harbor; the brown grass was beaten down into a footpath that was used by fishermen to access the waters. The fence that ran along the path was old but sturdy. A small gap let us into a marshy shoreline that was filled with plastic. Soda bottles, laundry detergent, and assorted cleaners bobbed up and down in a sea of sickeningly bright colors. The ones that were washed ashore squeaked in protest under our feet as we made our way to the massive plant.

Once inside, we had a vast and dangerous playground all to ourselves...