Brunswick is a town built on hills overlooking the Potomac River. It was - and is still considered by some to be - a railroad town. Railroad executives lived there in the heyday of travel and transport by rail. It was a hub, with a roundhouse, a vast YMCA to put up the railroad workers on overnight stays, a hospital to take the many men who'd been injured on the job. And there were bars to entertain the railroaders on payday. It had the unofficial slogan of "Hills, whores and liquor stores."
There's only two liquor stores now; the only 'official whore' I'd met moved to Frederick, but the hills are still there.
I'd gone out again, my 'blight house' list in hand, driving up and down the hills and around the alleyways that help traverse the oddly laid out roads. Try to go on D Street from one end of town to another, and you find you can't. There are a myriad of dead ends with the street picking up again a block or so away.
This was the rear of a house, facing an alley. From the front, it looks fine. From the back, it's easy to see why it's been cited numerous times as an unsafe and unsecured dwelling. To get to the unsafe, unsecured part, though, you have to climb down into a very large hole and then out again. This is one of the few homes that showed no improvement at all since I first went in search of these bleak homes about four years ago.