A picture of a moonlit river is the final product of: The night I needed a bicycle for my friend to ride. The abandoned bicycle found in the bicycle-room of my apartment. The Leatherman used to pry the lock from its back tire. The night of frogs and temples that followed.
The blown out tire on my way to school. The old two-wheeled friend that had to be retired. The abandoned bicycle that came to the rescue.
The night the policemen stopped me for ridding without a light. The lies about where and how the abandoned bicycle and I had met. The call to the police station to confirm my lies. The odds I beat when my lies checked out as the truth.
The abandoned bicycle left haphazardly in the middle of a dark sidewalk to take this picture. The old lady who gave me a piece of her mind because of this carelessness. The moment of calm when I finally take this picture.
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