A Crossing Point

“A fitting gateway to hell, my dear Maeve”

“Its like some gothic cathedral” they were awed, each column of the bridge had two elements, so that one could look along the length of the massive brick bridge, where the pillars marched shorter and ever shorter up the side of the narrow valley. They walked along the road a while until the park began again

novel fragment, c.a. 1980

Further on, the tube railway’s Mill Hill East branch crossed the river valley on a vast brick viaduct that suddenly came into view high above the dense riverside woodland. Beyond that — having crossed beneath a winding lane busy with traffic — the stream headed through unexplored parkland towards places as yet still unimagined.

Nick Papadimitriou, Scarp 2012: 31-32