Surrounded by dense building blocks and repeated routines in Seoul, I remember the bridge as the only place where the uninterrupted sky could be seen. For me, the car was where our family spent the most time together, talking, while I gazed out of the window at the fast-moving cityscape - thinking, revisiting, and imagining. I also caught glimpses of people in their cars or on the subway crossing the bridge, looking out at the river and the distant scene, wondering where they were going and what concerns they might have. Many of Seoul’s bridges were built during the decades of rapid growth in the 1960s and 70s, carrying people swiftly across the Han River as the city expanded. Yet while crossing them, I often found an unexpected stillness, a brief sanctuary where, for a moment, one could lose oneself in thought above the moving city.