There’s a bridge across the river, where there was none before. A stone bridge, arching over.
It surprises me. Why would the Ferryman allow this? It crowds him out. Crowds his service. I wouldn’t think he would like it there. I’m not sure I like it there. It provides easy access — going both ways. Permanent access. You can’t just disengage when you don’t feel like entertaining. Is this a good thing?
“Bridges are romantic,” the Ferryman says. “You can stand at the top and look over.”
“Across to the other side?”
“No, down. Look down at the river flow. It lets you look at the river without actually being in it.”
Oh. Yes. That’s nice. I watch the water, the stones in the river bottom. It’s lovely. I could just stand there and watch the way the light falls through it all.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Wait,” the Ferryman says. “Wait here. Just wait.”