There is a particularly large puddle, stretching from one side of the road to the other, where someone- or several someones- have placed a line of rocks down the center. I've yet to capture a photo of this beautiful bridge, but it's coming.
One afternoon I had arrived at just this spot and was contemplating the journey across. The rocks are sharp and edgy with flat surfaces that shimmer in the sun. The faces are not exactly flat, and the reflecting sunlight suggested a slippery slope. I wasn't really sure I wanted to risk it. The water is a deep, rich red and I could imagine it covering my clothes, my bag, my self.
Luckily on that day, a colleague from school passed before I had to take the first steps. On another morning, however, I was passing through that same puddle in a taxi, fascinated by the shape of the rocks (regretting again my inability to capture their allure with a photo) when I felt a sudden wetness.
Like a virtual reality game gone too far, as I watched the water ebbing and flowing from the movement of the car, I felt a splash of coolness from the seat. I whipped around to inspect the source, and sure enough, I could see clear through to the road. A glass bottom boat with no glass.
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| Mud bridge between two puddles near our house |
