The Resilient Bridge—its name lost to memory—had borne witness to generations. Its timeworn planks sagged under the weight of countless vehicles, each imprint a fragment of history. Moss and lichen clung to its wooden skeleton, nature’s gentle reclamation. The river flowed beneath, its currents weaving secrets through the bridge’s lattice of rust. And there, framed within the bridge’s embrace, lay its successor—the New Bridge. Sleek and sturdy, it stood tall, a testament to progress. Its steel glistened, untouched by time’s relentless hand. Yet, it was not alone. Through the gaps in the old bridge’s beams, I glimpsed the new—a harmonious convergence of past and present.