Days and days have been passing and I was still coming back at the same place: watching vague river water and continuity of waves in the wind from the bridge. A bridge was very old, corroded by rust, ugly brown. It was closed for cars and for people, years by years. Newspapers have written a lot about re-movement. It makes entire surroundings unattractive and persistently reminds how beautiful tings can become very ugly in a moment. When something like that is happened should be buried and moved out of sight. A new modern variant, fascinating gigantic proportions was constructed upstream. From that one it was impossible to see the old bridge; it was just a spot on the horizon like fog or smog in a distance.
On that dead wreck of heavy metal a tiny and tired woman body was standing, leaned far-off the fence in some way still indecisive to throw her down or not.
I was thinking about this old bridge to be my gravestone. The bridge that was annoying and no one liked it, will be glorious shrine for a girl who doesn't deserve anything because she's so weird… not close to anyone - how is said.
Sound of the waves can bring me in a good mood sometimes. I would sing and dance then. That could hypnotize me. I fixed my eyes on the water trying to see underneath the surface. But I couldn't see the bottom. I was interesting how deep is, is there any fish down not including strange headless micro organisms. Am I going to be their feast? They may perhaps feed themselves with human warmness that took too much trouble for me and even I always wanted to find it was going round me.