Libriana8

You can ride back to a place. You cannot ride back to a time. That is why you should stop when the birds go by.

By evening, my hands would ache from the bars. I would hold a cup in both of them and look through the photographs for something that was not in the photographs.

I sat on the bike above the river. There were people I could no longer call. I still wanted to tell them I was happy.

My hands were small against the sea. They were all I had, and they stayed on the bars.

One evening, years from now, I will close my eyes and hear this engine again. I hope I remember the wind, too.

One day, I will take my last ride without knowing it. Today, the wind touched my face, and I thought I had forever.

Someday, I will miss this ordinary evening. There was nothing ordinary about being here.

I used to wait for life to calm down. Now I find my way between the waves.

A good watch tells the time. A good ride makes you forget it.

The mountains did not know I was there. I will remember them all my life.