Vismar and Company

Vismar is walking on a bridge.

He has never seen such a bridge before, he vaguely senses that; he can’t see the end because the middle bulges up, or is this not the middle all? The edge? He is going upwards, the concrete doesn’t smooth itself against his feet – if this is concrete, if this is an upward slope, if this is a bridge. Everything is so weird, so strangely hazy – also that one can hear nothing, bridges arch above valleys or rivers or sea-bays, and almost always a wind blows there. But no wind is blowing here.