Una imagen, una historia
Hello to all steemains
It is with pleasure that I participate in this new edition of the “UNA IMAGEN, UNA HISTORIA” competition, a great opportunity to let the imagination speak through a simple image. This photo immediately inspired me. For me it evokes solitude, reflection, but also silent hope. I therefore chose to tell a symbolic story, that of a young man in search of himself, sitting on a bridge between the past and the future.
🖋️ Story Title: The Bridge
The morning was gray, and the sun was timid and unable to break through the heavy clouds, the air was still, as if the world were holding its breath. On the old metal bridge, a young boy sat, his body curled up under a loose gray coat, staring at the horizon with lost eyes, his legs dangling over the rusty railway tracks.
This bridge wasn't just a construction of iron and bolts... it was his only refuge.
Every morning, he comes here before the world wakes up, carefully climbs the metal stairs, and sits in the same corner, not to escape anything, but to remember everything.
It was at this very spot that his father held his hand when he was little, showing him how trains pass at a realistic speed... without waiting for anyone, without turning around.
It was at this very spot that his father said goodbye to him one morning and said,
"Stay strong... bridges aren't made to collapse."
But he hasn't returned since that day.
The boy learned that bridges don't just carry people from one side to the other, but also memories, questions, regrets, and desires, every rusty bolt on this bridge bears witness to a moment in his past... a laugh, a tear, a broken promise, an unfulfilled dream.
He didn't come here to escape the world, but to search for himself, lost amidst the noise of the city and the roar of responsibilities, he asked himself: "When did I lose my bearings? Why does everything seem so blurry?"
But no one answered. The bridge, even silent, understands him more than anyone around him.
At one point, as he stared up at the overcast sky, a cold breeze blew and he shivered. He took an old photograph from his pocket... it was worn, faded, but there were still two faces, genuinely smiling.
He smiled too, for the first time in months.
"I'll build my own bridge, even with the stones others throw at me."
He muttered to himself and slowly stood up, dusted off his pants, and stepped off the bridge, a new twinkle in his eyes...
The bridge wasn't just a way across, but a new starting point.
Thank you very much for reading, it's time to invite my friends @graceleon, @adrianagl, @karianaporras to participate in this contest.
Best Regards,
@kouba01
