“We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.” ~ Tom Stoppard
I wish I were here instead of in the middle of a major bathroom renovation . . . Oh well . . .
Reblogged from Curious History:
The Gothic Denham Bridge
This is an old pack horse Bridge across the River Tavy. Although only a minor road, Denham Bridge Lane is the main highway not far from Buckland Monachorum, a beautiful small village on Dartmoor in South Denham, England.
Simon & Garfunkel, “Bridge Over Troubled Water” (from Central Park Concert)
Rialto
When my mother said Let’s go down to the Rialto
it never occurred to me that the name Rialto
was odd or from anywhere else or meant anything
other than Rialto the theatre in my hometown
like the Orpheum, whose name was only a phoneme
with no trace of the god of Poetry, though
later I would learn about him and about the bridge
and realize that gods and bridges can fly invisibly
across the ocean and change their shapes and land
in one’s hometown and go on living there
until it’s time to fly again and start all over
as a perfectly clean phoneme in the heads
of the innocent and the open
on their way to the Ritz.
~ Ron Padgett
Lola's Curmudgeonly Musings 