The bridge was held together by optimism and the belief that if you swallowed enough of your own speech, the cables would bear your weight. To cross, you had to leave your luggage behind. Then your shoes. Then your tongue.
A suspension crossing built entirely from small compromises and swallowings of speech.
Wind between taut iron cords, footfalls that make no sound.
Motifs
〰The Red Thread
☁The Weather