I watch as someone crosses a crevasse. They have improvised a way to cross back and forth, over and over, because they are building a bridge. They act alone and are quiet. I could ask questions, but there is no secrecy in what they are doing. They know I am here. They work slowly and in a meandering way, but never stop. When the bridge is finished they take their tools and cross to the other side. As the quiet subsides, the bridge becomes a feature of the terrain and my attention turns inward.

– Jason Hirata