That home.

After breaking our current reckord with a few kilometers we arrive at a pink abandon busstationhouse. Its late, dark and we’ve after 30 km tailwind battled with hours of head or sidewind and then had a pleasant 2 hour cruise in the dusk after the winds settled. In total we have covered close to 90 km and even Nigels legs are unstable, which says something about the effort. 
At the road leading to the station there is a skeleton of a cow, that in combination with the “do not pass”-sign makes Nigel unsure, his lawbreaking wife is not bothered though and way too tired to care about potential penalties. About to enter the property a shadow is slowly moving closer from the road. We both stop holding our breath. Its another cyclist, a massive Brazilian guy called Washington whom we share the floorspace and evening with. He makes a fire in the fireplace and after dinner we celebrate nigels birthday with barbecuing marshmallows. “The same age as Jesus!” Is Washingtons respons to nigels birtday, “I am sorry, no cake!”

The quiet and the starlit sky makes me feel like we’re in one of those globes I loved as a child, you shake them and snow is falling through the air. It’s as if tonight is existing outside of time and space. I know this night will stay with me for a very long time. 

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