Riding the number 14 downtown, wedged between commuters and feeling slightly nauseous, I decided to pull the cord and get off the bus to walk across the Hawthorne bridge. The instant my feet hit the street the bright, clean wind blew all my sickness away. I walked, swinging my arms and breathing deep on a quiet Sunday. Before I could make it across the bridge a ship approached and traffic was stopped to let it through. I stood there suspended over the Willamette, admiring the autumn colors on the hill and the friendly stateliness of downtown. I looked down, through the grate of the bridge floor to the deep water below. Then, hearing the bark of geese I looked up in time to see a formation fly right over my head, up the river. No one could go anywhere, and it was only left for us to stand there, and look about.