Surrounded by the hulking gray and peach buildings, Downtown Brooklyn’s Family Court and the Metropolitan Transit Authority headquarters, the park feels like one of those abandoned places in a Planet of the Apes movie. It is not a park mothers would take children to. It was built over an underground parking garage. Six lanes of traffic stream by the Adams Street entrance. Inside the park is a playing field with bald dust spots, a row of cherry trees and a privet hedge along the side. We used to come here every day for recess in lower school. You could find treasures in the bushes: broken jewelry, metal watchstraps, chess pieces, screwcaps. There was a sweet smell down there, when you crouched along the edge of the field where the dust met the bushes, rotting cherries, Thunderbird.