I read somewhere that the Golden Gate Bridge ranks as one of the top suicide spots in the world. It’s terribly sad that some people look at that suspension bridge and think, “That’s where/how I’ll end my life.” And then there are people who’d lost loved ones from suicides off that bridge and that’s all they remember when they see it. I mean, it really is a breathtakingly beautiful bridge — like a work of art that spans almost 9000 feet– so it’s tragic in that aspect.
Well, you know what they say about tragedy and beauty. Or is it the beauty of tragedy? Or the tragedy of beauty?
Okay, now that I’ve started this entry in a morbid note (it’s just one of those days; I forgot to take my happy pills.), let me just say that there was nothing sad or melancholy about on the day I got my first good view of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a really clear day, perfect for sight-seeing.