Hi
Last week, Facebook started in a trial for the magazine BB. " I was beginning to a story and people was continuing.
For now this is what comes out. If you dare you can continue the story by writing the following paragraph.
No doubt his composure on the bike was what characterized him. But nevertheless, it was very difficult to take him down when he stopped thinking about it. Thus, with an infinite laziness, ascended as the angels, as if levitating over the mountains, as if gravity had been invested in its path. His bike was not the most modern, no nano, no ligerita things. Had always sought the reliability in all its components.
Without respect their leaders and in pursuit of victory, or at least entertainment. Capable of the best and worst.
you wore at his side quickly and the conversation flowed, his legs were still rhythmic pace while commenting on the greatness landscape, you had any housework or asked you for your father who had also met on the bike, that some years ago.
However, that day the way he moves in the group was not usual. He seemed nervous and agitated. Even his face had a tension that we had ever seen. It is true that the south wind will greatly influenced the mood. But it went further.
His eyes lost their focus away from your pedaling cadence as naturally drove, the conversation was short, brief, strange openness. The miles passed in late position, until he decided not follow the trail of the group, decided without a word, take an alternative route, a sharp turn and suddenly alone, strange and lonely silence. He looked up to infinity without any wheel to prevent him from seeing the horizon line. Decided to uproot the computer back, threw his helmet to the shoulder and missed the time, time, space and for a second he thought he could move forward infinitely.
He went through a difficult time, maybe that ease on the bike, the ease to achieve what he intended him to lose his head. Raquel
never dawn. Even a trip that requires taking a plane early prevented it pegasen sheets. The discipline of training and competition had not been sufficient to remove the taste for late nights. A snack time Sunday, after a frugal breakfast, headed out of town, riding on the first crackle of fallen leaves covering the road. Noon passed, but the autumn sun lengthened the shadows, inviting to laziness.
had been with the composure for a spin around. He would come and sweat and a little tired after fighting with the rock in a hill not far away and together they would conduct a few kilometers to a nearby diner where they were waiting for caps patatas bravas, fried calamari and marinated pork loin that would water with a beer while contemplate the passing of autumn with the timid ray of sun through the trees stripped of their leaves.
And so was his ride, lazy and worse, zigzagging as it came to the sharp bend to the people left behind.
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