New York Times: Steven Smith stands on the refuse that, no matter what, always seems to regenerate in the South Bronx. Plastic soda bottles, soccer balls, a thermos and a faded life preserver poke out from under the wooden planks scattered on the eroded shores of the East River. This is Oak Point, west of Hunts Point, a peninsula of perpetual reinvention. Once home to colonial estates and a Cuban sugar importer, then a public beach, a railroad float yard, a city landfill during the Bronxs burning years, an illegal...