You can find the storybook magic of my hometown, Seattle, through secret garden gates. As a teenager, I walked and discovered alternate cityscapes in hidden-trail stairways, plank-board bridges, and foot-access hideaways. Revisiting my secret Seattle is a whisper-quiet homecoming. A whole new city appears.
All these trails, stairways, and bridges seem like they are here for me.
I love the bridges. They float in crooked lines as light soaks the edges.
This bridge connects two miniature islands in pure marshy swamp that humidifies the air the way a theme-park water ride would.
Someone designed a place in the city for us to walk on water. That’s a lovely gift.
Every time I revisit these bridges, I feel like I’ve uncovered something perfect, no matter how many times I’ve been here. The surprise is lost, but the twists and turns still feel unspoiled.
All I have to do is walk and look.
There are bridges that take me into trees that will outgrow and outlive me, and that have decades of roots stronger than mine will ever be.
It’s city nature that’s as thick as anything. The green is crowded with flittering light.
Colors, rhythms, textures—these places are both the mastermind and the masterpiece.
A stranger built this for all of us.