I imagine this Venetian has gone under thousands upon thousands of bridges in his time. He’s probably witnessed falls, crimes and heavy passion in his life of bridges.
I challenged myself to remember the first bridge that I went under. I was seven or so–I always say seven when I don’t remember my exact age–when I hid under a trestle structure of about three car lengths that passed over a stream near our house. The rumbling thunder gets louder with age.