Bridges as evidence of certainty never fail to fascinate. Like the two ends that cannot meet yet they seem to be connected by that thread that sways as the winds rustle past. Those bridges. People are also like bridges sometimes. They connect and hold together, two facets of your personality. Sometimes, something that you were before you happened to chance upon them. And at other times, something that you became after them. They connect two of those sides, ignorantly but decisively together. Cement the rough edges into one. They mould and they shape. They teach, they scold, they hurt, they fold. The days go on like those ever swaying wind blasts. Bridges unfold one after the other. Lessons accumulate like the sheen of sweat on your tired palms. Still you drive on.
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