The Bridge At The End Of The World By Bess Winter Today I walked to the bridge at the end of the world. It took 20 minutes or so. The bridge is crumbling. It has no middle. I sat on the edge. It's at the end of an abandoned highway exit leading towards Nova Scotia. There are just two pillars, and a bit of a stretch of pavement, and then the whole thing breaks off. You can jump off of it into icy cold Fundy water. But I sat there on the edge of the bridge at the end of the world, alone with my little notebook, dangling my legs, boots covered in groddy red highway mud. Bess Kosinec paid the toll.

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