There is something about bridges. Alone, symbolic, creating a path to another shore. Who knows what will be found there? It’s the mystery and the answer together. Any type of bridge, crossing a river, stream, lake… Any size: huge, small, and “one car at a time” for the single road.
Arcs carry their own beauty. Someone called an arc the most perfect shape in nature. Why? Half a moon—beginning and end together? The alpha and the omega in one view. From the side— especially above water where you can see the reflection—you see the whole. The light and the dark sides. The coming together of everything. Thinking of it, there’s the arc from life to death. There’s the arc of the short story. (Try writing one without an arc.) The arc of a marriage?
And here we have the bridge and the arc together. Mmmmmmmm…what thoughts can we merge?