A thousand dreams within me softly burns.

From the back of this bike I’ve found myself at least three jobs and two apartments. I’ve even decided the colours on some of the walls (I know mustard yellow is disgustingly trendy, but it’s always been my colour), I’ve also made a book shelf out of those apple boxes we sent from Romania, decided in what corner my type writer is gonna stand.

From the back of this bike I’ve had hundreds of conversations, quite a few fiery arguments and solved a hand full of difficult problems. I’ve written a book, won awards and bought myself a little red Vespa from 1962.

From the back of this bike I’ve travelled to Mozambique, met Jesus and discovered what it’s like to be a mum. I’ve met old friends, discovered new ones, battled with my fears and talked to politicians live on TV.

And I’ve watched, watched, watched. The green fields turn in to mountains, turn in to sea, turn into languages I can’t even say “hi” in. Watched the kilometres tick on, like time, like thoughts. And I let the beauty wash over me, I can’t describe what I see, but I let it go in, deep, deep, without restraint, with out editing.



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