This bicycle is not about how fast I am capable of going, but more about how fast I am willing to go, while keeping all of my weaknesses as a fleshy, breakable body in the back of my head.

I have a VIN in hand for a motorcycle promised to me when I get back into the states next month, and people call that my newest death machine.

I still don't have a graceful way to descend stairs on roller blades, but cannot resist the appeal of a smooth, silent glide powered by the subtle turns of the ankles.

When my neighbors' air conditioning units turn on, the alleyway rumbles with ancient oscillating fans, and I know that all they're doing is making the world beyond their rooms a sliver hotter. That's why the petty part of me smiles whenever I see their dog lifting a leg over the rusty old machines.

14 May 2014 23:56

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