Conversation with an interesting cat.

"Let me show you something..." and I couldn't quite make out the rest of it—something about a bridge.
"A bridge?"
"There's a guy who's been tiling them."
"A guy tiling bridges?"
Tony nodded.
"You mean like freelance?"
Tony nodded again.
"He just started tiling them?"
Another nod.
"You're kidding."
It wasn't long before we were standing on Santa Clara Street, cars whizzing by, looking at a vintage concrete bridge. It reminded me of the bridges from the '20s and '30s I'd seen as a kid in West Virginia. The sides of the bridge had large inset panels and sure enough, the panels were tiled. In some places, tile had been broken off, vandalized. Each panel featured colorful original designs. Hawes had filled out the rest of the surfaces with a field of broken white tiles all carefully fitted together. The work obviously had required thousands of hours. But the work seemed to have been suspended some time ago leaving an impression of benign neglect.
"I want to meet this guy,"

Read on:
"Everything that has ever happened to us is there to make us stronger."
-John Trudell