The ligure Brooklyn bridge
It was The Bridge. I used to love crossing it, made me feel like I knew exactly how Brooklyn Bridge was! I grew up driving through it and under it with my father, with my mother, with my childhood friends, with one of the first boyfriends in route for a romantic drink in Piazza Delle Erbe, on a train to Sampierdarena. It was a symbol, Genova! It was where you could see the nearby Ikea, where you would have a second glimpse of the sea. Crossing the bridge was a ritual an experience more than anything... I remember a younger myself sat in the back seat looking outside the window at the bridge's ties, thinking how majestic it was, years passed by and it made always the same impression on me, even now, whenever I have to go to the airport after a mini-break, that bridge had always its charm. It was a spectacle. Imagine just this morning how shocked I felt when I've discovered what happened. The bridge collapsed. How can a bridge collapse? How can this happen in 201...