it's a melencholic moment: listening to an old friend's album, reading another old friend's blog. remembering many other old friends and more old places. an old life. an old me.
i found this image on flickr of a painting i once made, very early on, and quickly burried under 21 subsequent images over the succeeding year. i still get a kick out of my use of 'the dying gaul.' how the burden of the past weighs heavy on my shoulder....
while pedalling home tonight after work i thought about why i love the bike so much. it's shy of a 60km round trip plus a full day's work; a lot of effort. only when i'm in the saddle do i feel remotely whole. it's where i don't feel broken, just out of shape. that's something i can fix.
