Bicycle by Jorge Zea

This bicycle, silent witness of my afternoon rides along the beach.

Summer here brings afternoon rain, but this only encourages my rides.

There is a smell of iodine because of the seaweed dying on the sand and of wet earth.

I get back home,

…a warm shower and I rejoice with the tender sensation on my skin when I put on my dry pajamas.

I sit on my small balcony with a red wine to see the rain fall.

With my silence.

This silence that I so much love and my solitude that I adore now that I am in my silver years.

…one advice: never devote your life, as did I, to being a circus trapezist


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