The bridge is old, its stone structure crumbling and worn. The sharp edges it was built with, have vanished, long since eroded by the fierce wind and rain. The bricks are worn, beaten down into a smooth stone path by hundreds of feet, wagons and cars. The sides and rails though, are still sharp, the stones piled into walls, columns and arches. Each stone in the wall is different, varying in size color and shape they are compiled together. Imagine the stories that each of these rocks could tell; each one would be different, describing moments and memories more than two centuries old in such detail that you feel transported into another world entirely. Or maybe they speak about something that happened only moments before, something that only the stones were able to see or understand. To the inhabitants of the bridge time would seem infinite, an unimportant factor as they feel the vibrations of thousands as they walk across the stones. A
lready they have witnessed an infinite number of people come and go in the world sensing there presence for years before it vanishes disappearing from the world forever. Some of the rocks have shattered, forced to sit in silence, trapped and unmoving as they have witnessed some leave the earth on their own accord. People filled with so much sadness and despair that their emotions were transferred into the bridge, leaving invisible scars that will never leave and only fade after time.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/question_everything/29310130
Hauntingly depressingly lovely. As usual with your posts, I have a hard time trying to pick a favorite part. I like this: " Already they have witnessed an infinite number of people come and go in the world sensing there presence for years before it vanishes disappearing from the world forever." So sad, yet all too true. Beautiful work, Kendal.
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