For kilometres the Brenner motorway had been our silent shadow, bold, loud, impossible to ignore. And then, just like that, it slips out of sight. A ridiculous feat of engineering, flung between mountains with pure confidence and a lot of concrete.
Wim, predictably, starts Googling. Built in the sixties, once the highest bridge in Europe. Today, traffic skates across it like toy cars, blissfully unaware of the void below. Must be nice.
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