The bridge (not a poem)


My city is called Terrassa.
Terrassa is a little city near Barcelona.
This little city near Barcelona is full of stories.
There is an old bridge in Terrassa.
This bridge is Romanesque, so it is medieval.
Sometimes I have a walk near this bridge.
I love walking as it allows me to think about things.
When I see that bridge, I think how old it is.
I think that it must have seen lots of stories.
I know one of them.
It often happens to me to have weird thoughts.
Once I thought to jump off the bridge.
Then I stopped.
There is a beautiful garden under the bridge.
There are several trees and birds and children.
I thought it was perfect as it was.
There was a beautiful, intelligent, smart girl in my city.
She used to walk that bridge often, too.
Once, she did not pass by, as I did.
One afternoon she stopped her walk on the bridge.
She saw the beautiful garden.
She saw the tiny birds.
She felt the breeze on her face.
But nothing was enough for her.
She thought that nothing was perfect as it was.
So she decided to jump off.
And she did.
An old wise tree stopped her fall.
She survived.
She was in the hospital for several months.
She needs a wheelchair since that day.
She has been happy and full of life since then.
Some people say it was an accident.
Some people say she had a depression.
Some people just do not understand.
Sometimes a beautiful, intelligent, smart girl needs to see.
Sometimes the light comes only after the darkness.


To L., the beautiful, intelligent, smart girl.

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