Every town has a story it tells about itself. Ours is about a bridge made of paper, which sounds absurd until you hear how the students who built it tested every sheet of card by hand in the school hall for an entire winter, and then carried the finished span to the river on a cold morning in March while half the town watched from the bank.
The bridge held 450 kilograms on its first test. Nobody expected that. The teacher wrote the numbers on the board and the class cheered.
The river was quiet that spring. The students waited for the water to drop before they carried the span down.