Conditional Reality

I called it my zen bridge. There was this narrowing in the gorge where I lived. Whenever I drove by it a bridge came to my mind. The finished design was there in my head. For years I saw the bridge whenever I drove by the narrowing. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It was a bridge no one would build. There were already two bridges over the gorge, no reason for another. One day I stopped the car and walked to the lip of the narrowing. I put my foot forward. The zen bridge was there. Waiting.

Labels: Laborer's tales