Golden Gate is not only the name of the deep, foggy, current tormented strait of water between urban San Francisco and wild Marin County, it is also the symbol of what separates us as human beings, the mysterious and moody nuances of the soul. The beautiful suspended structure which conquered the strait in 1937 is not only a red Art Deco bridge, it is the symbol of that elusive, strong but flexible something which brings us truly together, if we are lucky, stubborn and well timed. At least this is how I explained to myself on the second day of Christmas the endless fascination I feel for this bridge.