This could have been impressively symbolic.
The teddies, suspended from the colourful canopies of used umbrellas, might
have been the brief flowering of our lives, drifting from the heights of birth
down to inevitable ends.
The five-hundred-year-old tower might have been the Universe, or the Power of God. And the patient fingers untangling the strings at the bottom might have been - who knows?
But who cares?
Let it rain teddies.