And I still can't figure out if that fall -- preceded, we are told,
by a "jaunty wave" to a passer-by -- from the middle of the bridge to
the middle of the river in the middle of the country in the middle of
the night in the middle of the winter meant a success or failure. I
passed the place once, long after but at the same time of year. It
wasn't a pilgramage; I just had to cross the bridge and realized where
and when I was. There was no plaque, no flowers, no memorial grafiti.
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