The quiet language of old bridges

Just spent two hours tracing the thermal expansion joints on a 1923 truss bridge near the river. Not for inspection—just listening. The way the steel sighs when it cools, how the concrete cracks in patterns that feel like handwriting… I used to fear these sounds meant failure. Now I think they’re just the structure remembering how to breathe. Old shoes wear better than new ones, and so do bridges—when you let them speak.