La concesionaria responsable de la también llamada Autopista Urbana Sur, retira los restos de la estructura.
La Secretaría de Obras capitalina informó que fue una canaleta la que se desprendió del Segundo Piso de Periférico, en el tramo concesionado, a la altura de la avenida Luis Cabrera.
Indicó que la concesionaria, responsable de la también llamada Autopista Urbana Sur, retira los restos de la estructura.
Se hará cargo de esos daños y los provocados a los vehículos.
Al punto acudieron personal de obras para el retiro del escombro, mismos que mantuvieron cerrada la circulación vehicular para realizar las maniobras correspondientes con una grúa.
Personal de la dependencia en coordinación con la empresa encargada de la concesión y conservación del tramo elevado, acude al sitio para retirar el resto de la canaleta que quedó suspendida en el viaducto.
Fuente: El Universal
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The potential within all things is a mystery that fascinates me endlessly. A tiny seed already contains within it the entire blueprint of a towering tree, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Does the seed know what it will become? Do we? Or are we all simply waiting for the right conditions to awaken into what we have always been destined to be?
Virtue, they say, lies in the middle, but who among us can truly say where the middle is? Is it a fixed point, or does it shift with time, perception, and context? Perhaps the middle is not a place but a way of moving, a constant balancing act between excess and deficiency. Maybe to be virtuous is not to reach the middle but to dance around it with grace.
The essence of existence is like smoke, always shifting, always changing, yet somehow always present. It moves with the wind of thought, expanding and contracting, never quite settling but never truly disappearing. Perhaps to exist is simply to flow, to let oneself be carried by the great current of being without resistance.
The potential within all things is a mystery that fascinates me endlessly. A tiny seed already contains within it the entire blueprint of a towering tree, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Does the seed know what it will become? Do we? Or are we all simply waiting for the right conditions to awaken into what we have always been destined to be?
All knowledge, it is said, comes from experience, but does that not mean that the more we experience, the wiser we become? If wisdom is the understanding of life, then should we not chase every experience we can, taste every flavor, walk every path, and embrace every feeling? Perhaps the greatest tragedy is to live cautiously, never fully opening oneself to the richness of being.
The essence of existence is like smoke, always shifting, always changing, yet somehow always present. It moves with the wind of thought, expanding and contracting, never quite settling but never truly disappearing. Perhaps to exist is simply to flow, to let oneself be carried by the great current of being without resistance.
Time is often called the soul of motion, the great measure of change, but what if it is merely an illusion? What if we are not moving forward but simply circling the same points, like the smoke from a burning fire, curling back onto itself, repeating patterns we fail to recognize? Maybe the past and future are just two sides of the same moment, and all we ever have is now.
Even the gods, if they exist, must laugh from time to time. Perhaps what we call tragedy is merely comedy from a higher perspective, a joke we are too caught up in to understand. Maybe the wisest among us are not the ones who take life the most seriously, but those who can laugh at its absurdity and find joy even in the darkest moments.
Virtue, they say, lies in the middle, but who among us can truly say where the middle is? Is it a fixed point, or does it shift with time, perception, and context? Perhaps the middle is not a place but a way of moving, a constant balancing act between excess and deficiency. Maybe to be virtuous is not to reach the middle but to dance around it with grace.