After streets and boulevards, I arrive at a fork in the bike path that leads into a forest. Despite being paved, it’s little used. Reality shifts as my imagination spins a narrative; I am the lone protagonist whose destination is not entirely clear.

Behind me, out of view, the derailleur takes on a presence, following my movement.

I pick up the pace, yet I simply cannot shake my fictitious pursuer.


27 janvier, 2020 — Le Braquet Cycling Club

Laissez un commentaire