Constitutional of the Heart V.

Today I got into the saddle again to experience the pleasantly thrilling rapture of movement and speed. Once again the world melted into a kaleidoscope of colours around me. On a rather abandoned road, where the dark grey tarmac glistened under me in the sun like the whitening tail of a comet, I enjoyed the sweetly whistling exaltation.

However, a loud hiss interrupted my enjoyment, like that certain snake hissed into the idyll of the Garden of Eden. Before I could realise what that sound was, a crackling thunder followed it.

My pedalled donkey had thrown off its shoe or rather the wheel had been punctured. My brother didn’t live far, so I could easily find shelter and repair shop at his place. Although I still had to carry my donkey for nearly two kilometres. At a point, when my shoulders grew tired, I pushed my lame steed, which trudged along as lazily and bored as the cat I saw across the street.

I encountered a dog on my way as well, walking his owner. The hound took a good look at me because he had certainly seen a man on a bicycle, but not a bicycle on a man.

Later, both tyres were replaced on the donkey. But we had to buy new ones, so we set off in my brother’s car. This kind of journey, owing to the many roundabouts, sickened me almost green. But at length the donkey was ready, and I was back on the road again.

The pace was scintillantly brisk again, and my muscles were starting to feel tired. The city was languid. Perhaps because of this and my “accident”, a sour, violaceous melancholy settled in my heart. Just like the night you left dance and went home. Your tram took your effulgence, took you, and I was left under the morose orange lights of the city…