and I pedaled one by myself, was about just to ride to the car, and a small group came up on me.
I joined. Soon I was at the front just going hard, pulling. Some of us were sharing the work.
It was not for much, we were not going to catch anything, we'd all been dropped.
I was sitting four wheels off the front, and the dude had been up there pulling for a bit.
The next two, teammates were riding like we were coming into a finish, like to win.
I rode past them to the front to take him out of the wind.
I said, as I passed the two, "you can take a pull', "we are dropped".
I dooled out what I had, at the front hitting the corners hard, and into the wind hard.
Riding a bit just after the finish of the race, one of the two, who'd not did work, I coasted past,..."that was no fun riding with you", I said.
I laid on the couch at home, finally I was destroyed. My mind, legs, lungs, heart.
and off, out, despite the ache in the legs and wheeze out of the throat. to a small gallery, I just wanted to lay on the couch.
Just a simple empty two rooms. Full of beautiful photographs. Shawn Theodore's.
"The Avenues" Uptown & Gtown.
a fantastic show, really great stuff. @ the iMPeRFect Gallery 5601 Greene St. Philly
The new book I am reading, quite good:
So I think the thing about surrealist, is the juxtaposition, you know the real and imagined, distorted, and where you've drawn your lines.