A bridge person stretches — from one to another, like a circus contortionist, twisting into shapes that look impossible. You wonder, does it hurt? Always building. Always meeting. New lands, new faces. Never quite settling. No one ever stays. And yet — ancient humans slept in warm dirt, in a village that knew them by name and by scent. But after all this traveling, after meddling and molding, we’ve reached the skies. The suspension groans with every gust of wind. Did the ance