A Bridge，符号，多元文化体验 ( 下 ）

约翰雷客霄 Burlington, Ca.- Free writing, version,

I like to watch the bridge in different time of the day.  When the sun rises in the morning, the bridge is shining gold. It’s gorgeous. More and more people now move to Canada with golden dreams for a more secured, relaxed, and balanced life.  when they made the decision to take the journey, they were having a dream on mind looking for a ‘bridge’ that could get them over to a new land, a land of freedom, prosperous, and security.

It’s mysterious sometimes. It gives you different feeling when you look at it in different weather. It makes you think of many things Imaginary gone mad or even lost when the picture changes.  Especially, in the days when the lake is windy and foggy. It looks, even amazing. It’s changes the picture. When the wind tears away the fog, as though a steel statue standing there covered with a thin and white lacy “Saris”, -that Indian women wears to cover their bodies. It stands solid when the lake is stormy, and wavy; It stands in the dark background of moonlit night, almost shines silver. It stands all the time watching people grew from a child to an older telling the story of age.

In evenings, I can see the lights of people’s cars crossing the bridge, twinkling in the black sky. People are on the move, they are busy. See the lights moving? I mean the People, the Canadians, a mixture, a multinational body of citizens, aboriginals, Italians, Scottish, Polish, Japanese, Chinese, AfriCanadians, which nationalities of what-so-ever, merges into the flow of the cars with  lights of miracle? They all mixed in the river of traffic. That’s unique beauty in my mind. Bridges connect people to each other. Where are they going, where is the destination? All sorts of that.

We enjoy not only the beauty of the architectural part of it, that fall within our admiration naturally, but our appreciation of the history it presents arose in me the curiosity to know the traditions, the people traveling back and forth, sailing under or commuting above. the It bridges us from the past to the reality, to the things around close to us and even the memories our lives. That\'s so calling from inside.

This bridge is romantic, poetic too. Like a poem of many years ago, it brings me back home too. Looking at it, my mind run home, there are many bridges of sorts, wood, stone, and steel. Especially when I am on the bridge, the big, round, full moon hung over the lake. A typical poem in life:

\"Quite and still the night, its above high 

through window, shone in frost and white

Look at the moon in dark sky,

My heart escaped to home, on a ride\"

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Last winter, I was in a class called \"Bridge” too. I loved the way it is called. Immediately it reminds me the bridge at the bay; Wow, What a creative name given! It is a BRIDGE, in its cultural sense; we are all from various countries. Fresh, new to Canada. I told them about this bridge, shew them the picture of \"my bridge\" proudly; ( not all of them know this bridge) I often imagine myself standing on the bridge looking at the lake, the birds in the sky, or the people on the beach.  In my mind, I whisper softly \'My bridge\", I send my loved \"the bridge –at the bay\" in picture around; I wrote poems about it; I Blogged it in China; Wherever I travel, it is always on my mind. Oh, my bridge, now finally, I wrote you down.   

 

771 words To be continued

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 约翰雷客霄 Burlington, Ca.
You can reach him at:
lakeshore_viewer_2008@yahoo.cn (China)
john.canjourno.2008@gmail.com ( International )