It's pitch black, we round the corner, and the Fredrikstad bridge appears.

It's pitch black, we round the corner, and the Fredrikstad bridge appears.
 The night lies heavy and silent over the city, a dark blanket drawn across the landscape. The streets are empty, the air is crisp, and the light from the scattered street lamps cast long, lonely shadows across the ground. We round the corner, and there, like a gigantic portal between heaven and earth, the Fredrikstad Bridge rises in the darkness of the night.
 Its steel structure stands out against the night sky, illuminated by a soft glow from the scattered lights reflected in the water below. The reflections form long, vibrating streaks on the glossy river surface, as if the bridge echoes in the deep, black water.
 On one side, the city, houses and streetlights are glimpsed like small glimmers of light in the darkness, while the bridge stands as a lonely witness to the silence of the night. A light breeze sweeps across the river, and a faint hum of traffic can be heard in the distance, a sign that the city never quite sleeps.
 This is a moment of contrasts of light against darkness, stillness against movement, the pulse of the city against the deep calm of the night. The Fredrikstad Bridge stands there, as always, as a bridge between time and space, between the night that is and the morning that awaits.