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I love train bridges: their ability to seem so instable and perilous to our small human feet while transporting thousands of pounds of steel and goods effortlessly and without threat of defeat. I love the fear without true, absolute danger, the thinking I might fall without the actual falling.
They say when you climb up through the cloud forest out of Chuao toward Cepe, you sometimes hear children laughing. People passing this way, alone among the thick vegetation, are drawn off the narrow path, searching for hours for the source of the laughter. But they never find children, only a hidden spring of clear, icy water, gurgling up from beneath the undergrowth.
William Reese Hamilton