Water, air, wood (or sometimes single stepping-stones)—a combination of elements enabling passage.
Bridges I remember offhand are
- a little one at Bandelier, on the hike up to the Ceremonial Cave (before the long ascent on cottonwood ladders)
- the Roman aqueduct at Il Pondel, about which I have written endlessly
- the Turkish aqueduct full of nesting ravens near Knossos on Crete
- the handsome Brooklyn Bridge
- many fine bridges in Paris
- the golden Ponte Vecchio
- the breathlessly high-arched bridge in the Japanese tea garden
- a beautiful bright red bridge in Hilo, where old Chinese
women fish with nets early mornings in the flat tidal pools - the Delgado Street Bridge in Santa Fe, under which atomic bomb secrets were given to the Russians (or so the story goes)
- and then this bridge and quote from Tom Stoppard
image: The Beauty of Arts
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