they call it the last of the incan suspension bridges and say it's 500 years old --- actually, like the japanese reconstruction of a shrine in exactly the same way every twenty years for centuries, this one is rebuilt every year --- but still . . . .
"on friday noon, july the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all peru broke and precipitated five travelers into the gulf below"
Posted by
tomitron
at
10/20/2009 06:14:00 PM
Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas.
The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.
john northbrooke, c. 1570
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