My Bicycle

I knew my bicycle was in the old house and that I wanted to get it back. The bicycle had become as much a part of my existence as the clothes I wore to go out. I say to go out, because it represents me, just like clothes. I nurtured the bicycle like a baby, replacing all the worn cables, carefully oiling all the necessary parts, aligning the brakes. Every now and then I stripped …

…and took it out the house and cleaned it. I then took a ride with my old friend and had all the memories back. I remembered how by the age of ten, riding the bike several kilometres to the local fishing pool, where I would set up my rod rests and umbrella and throw out the keep net before sinking into a somnambulant dream state, lulled by the lazy bobbing of the fresh water floats.