But this is to be expected. And this is why Francesca’s story couldn’t have ended any other way. She couldn’t live happily ever after with the photographer, because he represented not an actual man, not even the “perfect” man; he represented longing itself. The Bridges of Madison County was a story about the moments when you glimpse your Eden. It was never just a story about a marriage and an affair; it was about the transience of these sightings, and why they mean more than anything else that might ever happen to you.
