Stopping for a while, I look down from the bridge. I cannot hear the river flowing by, it must be very deep. I cannot see through the dense cold fog, yet I keep gazing. My footsteps cannot be traced, nor can I trace someone else’s footsteps. A skylark’s song breaks the reverie. What lies at the end? ‘Shush’, I tell my mind. What is the hurry, I question it back; the end is the end.
Taking a deep breath, I start walking ahead. The fog engulfs me for a moment and then disappears just to reveal the endless bridge. My eyes glistens, my mind speaks up, ‘seemingly real?’
With myself accompanying me, I continue walking.
