The Wheel

The Wheel… cars, trucks, trains, oh trains, scooters, sewing machines, spools, pottery… but by far its best function, I’m learning, is the bicycle. Pedal to the ground, and watch it go round, life floating past at a perfect pace. Wind in your hair, you can get to everywhere…

Riding up a hill you’ll notice the grass pushing up through the pebbles, the cracks forming shapes in the sidewalk. Coming down, the sky never looked so big, the air so fresh, the flight so free. 

I’ve learnt you can get from anywhere to anywhere by bicycle, all it takes is time. Time to think, to learn, to grow and to understand the land. Should you hit water, find a sail and boat across. 

Months ago, I put that seat between my legs and drifted through the lowlands, so known to my heart now. A week ago I set out from Amsterdam, on route to Paris. A few days and nights spent reflecting on my love for the little pocket of place known as The Netherlands, then crossing the border into Belgium. 

Looking at a map of a Holland all i see are faces, connected to stories, linked to my heart beat. My finger drifting over France and it’s a similar feeling. Adventures and roads roads roads, trekked and travelled. I’ve train-hopped in Paris, hitchhiked in Paris and now I’ll cycle in Paris. Staring at the page marked Belgium my temperature neither rises nor falls, my pupils constant, my hands steady. Memories are in the making here though and time will change things. The first, to be remembered for sure, was wondering into a leaf covered forest, pitching the well worn tent and sharing my warmth with Charlie. One of the less cool nights, it was the best sleep I’ve had in a week. 

Now we’re in Brussels and there is a man strumming a guitar in front of me, singing of hobo’s, trains and folk. A musical, ecological and very welcoming ‘Maison a Dormir Debout’ is our roof for now and life is looking as slow and sweet as ever.

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