Just outside Arnhem, hidden within the woods of the Veluwe, lies a bridge to nowhere. Built in 1968 as part of the A50 motorway, the double Varenna Viaduct was meant to carry traffic—but one of the two bridges never did. Shortly after completion, infrastructure plans shifted, and that one side of the twin viaduct was permanently closed. Rather than demolish it, authorities simply fenced it off, as this was less expensive. Since then, it has stood untouched, unused, and largely unknown: a ghost viaduct, suspended above a living forest.

In 2018, I stepped onto this forgotten ribbon of asphalt. I felt the strange tension of standing in a place built for speed while surrounded by stillness. The sensation was uncanny—like a car might burst from the trees at any moment, though I knew none ever would. On the parallel viaduct, traffic continues to roar. But here, motion has vanished. Not silence in the literal sense, but a silence of halted purpose.

I walked the full length of the structure on foot—an act of resistance to its original function. What was built to move bodies rapidly now stretches slowly beneath your steps, vast and indifferent. The structure was not made for humans, and walking it made me feel small. But who was it for then?

This site reminds us that transformation is always happening. That decay can be beautiful. That even forgotten structures can become vessels of reflection. I hope the viaduct remains untouched—a quiet threshold for those in search of stillness, ambiguity, or space to be alone. A structure that no longer carries cars, but offers passage of another kind.

Later, I returned to the forest edge and placed a small title plaque where the asphalt emerges from the trees:
“Viaduct voor de stilte.”

I have not returned since.