No other bird carries as many faces as the magpie. In some tales, it's a thief, a hoarder of shiny things, a harbinger of bad luck. In others, it's a bringer of good fortune, a gentle creature that builds bridges between two people. All the while, the true magpie transcends time and space, simply building its own bridges with what it has. As a child, I was captivated by a poem about a magpie. A fantastical scene of frost blanketing a bridge built on a cold sky, it stirred my imagination in a way nothing else could. As the years passed, I wished to become a bridge-builder, just like the magpie. To mend what was broken between opposing shores. The tangled threads of their desires, a deadlock I yearned to unravel. On the edges, I built a bridge that stretched to the breaking point. Somewhere in the crossing, I lost my way. The real magpie mocks me, the one who wore its mask, and continues to fly calmly through the sky.