The Brooklyn Bridge has a civilized, old-fashioned promenade deck, with teak benches and intricate wrought iron lamps posts. This walkway is sensational, crossing the bridge at its highest altitude. Cars and trains are far below, half heard through the wind. Out here, trembling like a compass needle, I tilt my face in the glorious light. I'm wearing the darkest glasses because my eyes ache where there is brilliance, but the light is perfection, the naked sun coming now as if Corky [the guide dog] and I are prayerful gnostics who have silently identified the proper secret names for air and sunlight.
In Toronto a similar experience can be achieved by walking over the Bloor Viaduct with its Veil.
And so for day 412
29.01.2008