It’s hard to describe the current state of Harlem’s P.S. 186 without falling into the dreaded verbal black hole of flowery rhetoric that plagues urban exploration writing. I can’t count how many times I’ve read the phrase “reclaimed by nature” in regards to a “concrete jungle” or “lost city.” Whenever I encounter that type of language, it fills me with vicarious embarrassment. It’s the same feeling I get when I tell people I’m a cartoonist and they say, “oh, you mean, like Cathy?” and I’m like, “haha, no, not at all,” but inside I’m like “fuck my life right now.” So I’m not going to attempt to describe P.S. 186 beyond perfunctory observations, the photos will have to suffice.