The things that we think and the things that we say occupy left brain and right brain respectfully (or conversely),
and whereas once their was any number of bridges across that chasm—
a grand canyon to the n’th degree-
now we see only one option. . . a rickedy, dangerous bridge at best.
We seek a super-human who strides fearlessly onto that blasted man-made contraption, and after a bullet-sweating eternity meets us in the middle.
At the precise moment we meet, the monsoon hits, million mile an hour winds, raindrops like missiles. We wait for the bridge to crumble beneath our feet, squeezing our eyes shut, tears flowing shamelessly while the other holds us as tightly as we've ever been held before.
Minutes pass, turning into hours turning into
time
disappearing
completely.
Only then... the winds are finally quiet. We open our eyes, and see the other's face for the first time. Suddenly we remember and look down only to squeal an astonished squeal.
The bridge was an illusion.
The embrace of soft feathers
suspended in the air,
we are joined to each other
and
suspended in the air,
we are joined to each other
and
an other
These photos were taken in 2006 on a tiny digital camera in Takachiho, Japan,
one of the most stunning places I've seen in the world.