The bridge which became a point of interest during a grey month

The Atlas of Curiosities: Part 17

It was a grey place, a grey month, and the bridge was grey.  The water was grey, and beneath it, grey stones were motionless. It was November.

On the one end sat an old man in a folding chair.

As pedestrians approached the bridge, he inflated a white balloon with helium and tied it with a ribbon.  Before they crossed, each person was handed a balloon.  Standing a distance away, we watched as one balloon after another quietly drifted over the bridge, seemingly without the aid of human hands.

“How interesting it would be to know where each balloon goes,” we thought aloud. “And how interesting to know the motivations of the elderly gentleman there.”

Our host smiled at this, but said “There is poetry neither in the past nor in the future.”

We retired to a coffee shop, and discussed the events of the day.