A deafening roar, accompanied by a black shadow in the night. I see her for a while. Then disappears.
lightning. Leaving behind a trail of thunderous noise. What remains. They feel the vibrations in the air again after a few minutes.
A dream. No, too fast to be a dream.
Richard stroked the dangerous thrill of speed, as he broke the barriers of wind and weather. Only. With his bike.
He did not really account to challenge the fine line that divides life from death, almost imperceptibly, the race from the brink, the evocative fiction from the frightening reality, jumping between the curves as toward the vacuum.
The cold freezes the tears and imprisons the emotions behind the door of tomorrow. The perception of speed
paralyzes the pain I left behind at the start, and it runs away in a moment, and every moment it has gone away more. Turning to
lightning the streets, he could keep the rest of the world outside of the helmet: fear, anxiety, anger still look like petrified, like the houses and, like me, motionless, helpless, unable to really know what they have seen through.
Time does not exist anymore, or perhaps never existed in this desperate journey.
There was not even anger, even the memory of the screams of that last fight. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
was the only way to let all that pained him behind, as the hot asphalt after its passage. It was the only way to forget everything for a moment, the time of that journey. Just for a moment forever. So
defied the night. Defying courage. Challenged the possibility of finding solutions.
He knew, however, that not challenged himself, by himself simply fled.
took refuge in that strange dimension beyond time and beyond the emotions only to take refuge from reality.
But a trip like this can not last forever: sooner or later the petrol runs out, the night ends sooner or later, even the road eventually ends.
It must go down. We must breathe. We must cry. It should also be screaming.
But this race a rider does not know, can not know.
Why can not know anything, can not hear anything except the terrible roar all around, can not see nothing but the same journey. At
Richard suddenly saw a wall. She saw him last. Only at the last.
and then heard the roar had died. He saw that his leg was trapped under the bike and suddenly began to feel pain. The pain of a piece of sheet metal below the knee, so, too.
Above the silent pain of his soul, his life. What had been stopped in the backyard when he started the engine, but had remained silent as a shadow side, always a few steps from the bike, like a spy well-trained, ready to attack him when he stopped.
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