“There are roads up there, bridges, built on top of thin air, hanging just there in the skies” Gun Roswell

Bridged over the skies

They built them, way back when, out of stones, bricks, whatever they could find, just because they wanted to, reaching for the skies, for divinity, or at least, that is the theory, for us in the here and now, looking up there, at the skies, where the bridges we can spy, built by those who dared to dream, that there was more out there, than could be seen, by the naked eye, even if open wide.