One of my favorite places: Pont de Cirou.

You think you're thrown back decades in time. Reception on your mobile is not there - a kilometer before it is gone, and a kilometer after it it comes back slightly. Partly because of this it feels extremely pure, real and sincere.

You see that bridge? This bridge was built between 1200 and 1300. It was a very important transition over the Viaur, which connected the roads between Rodez and Toulouse.

If this bridge could talk, what would she tell?

I like to sit back and imagine everything.

Women doing their laundry in the river underneath.
Horse and wagon over the bridge.
Cattle that needs to be moved.
Lovers who walk there.
Fear of the high water.
A desperate soul who is tired of his life and jumps.
Kids smoking their first sneaky cigarettes under the bridge.
The first bike to ride it.
The river that is so important during fires.
Kids running over, chasing their hoop.
Churchgoers walking on it, heading to the top of the mountain where the church stands - clamped under their arm the Bible.
The first car to drive over it.
In the wars soldiers on the bridge commissioned - in fear.


Oh, my God. If only this bridge could talk... I'll hang on her lips to hear the stories.

Today, my tough girl was in the water. Alanis looking at the bridge and wondering how many people had already crossed it. My tough girl... my purest hsp'er. She feels, like me, the presence of the past so clearly.
The environment is so pure, so real and so sincere - you can just feel history.


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Tactible history