And, By Pretty, I Mean Stunning

In light of the boy who once asked, incredulously, "But, Jen Snow, I thought you had a heart of stone!?" there is this:

On Saturday night I drove over the Brooklyn Bridge. For the first time.
And I cried.

It was overwhelmingly pretty and then I realized that it was also the only thing holding me above all of that water. And that I should try to stay in my lane. And that it's really small, but really big. And, apparently, really tear-worthy.