I do not know whether I pedal to write or write to pedal
This doubt, at times, makes me a little confuse.
What interest, I ask myself, can those whose focus is precisely to pedal – and whom I believe are the majority – have in what I write? But, at the same time, what interest can those who don’t even know how to ride a bicycle have in it?
It’s curious, however, that among the latter are some of those who feel at ease in this metaphysical pedaling where all trails are open to dreaming and to imagination.
Trails that, distant from the noise and the hostility of the streets, take us along paths surrounded by woods and sided by flowers. Paths where the air we breathe is pure and where we propel ourselves only with the strength of our legs, taken by an unsurmountable youth towards the last ray of light at dusk.
And when we get close, the closest we can, with the feeling that we have some sort of power over our limitations, we finally get off our bike and lay down to nap right there, outdoors, stretched on the grass, hoping that something supernatural may happen.
Unless for some reason someone wakes us up, because our sleep will be light, and maybe they will ask for our help to rescue someone in danger. Or even, because we could not really get away from the dangers of the city, they want to rob us and steal our bicycle.
- The bike or your life! - They will perhaps still threaten us.
To what, promptly, without hesitation, protecting the bicycle with our body, we will reply offering them our life.
Photo: Anne Seltmann – Germany
English Version: Renata Kabke Pinheiro
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