The Bridge of Sighs


BARRANCO. If I had more time than a few hours I might have written a short story here. The old elegant houses through the light fog, the occasional volkswagon, the murals and statues, and the clifftop overlooking the ocean.

My friend Lutie (listen to a drunken interview of Lutie) gave me a quick introduction and as we passed a beautiful church with a damaged roof I could see a bridge, with a pathway underneath through a lane among an occasional cactus and bar.


“This is the Bridge of Sighs,” he said. “You make a wish and if you walk across the bridge without breathing in or out then it comes true.”

There was something electric about the genuine belief I had as I stepped on that bridge as if I was six again – feeling that sacred magic when blowing out my birthday cake candles.


I walked ahead of the couple with the cute dog. I walked past the vendors. Halfway across the timber bridge my chest tightened. Three quarters across I was uncomfortable but I did not speed up too much. At the end I expelled my air and breathed in again with some relief.

Lutie soon caught up. “You only get one wish,” he explained when I asked if he did it as well.

“And you cannot tell anyone what it was or it will not come true.”


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