Time has calmed; It is cloudy. The temperature has dropped some degrees and the water of the River, fish and birds, they appreciate it. My favorite corner, next to the Jarama, there are ducks resting on the water. On the shore opposite a Raptor hopes posada on a tree, to pass the time. We are all quiet this afternoon; my bike includes a tiny bug that approaches, curious, until his wheel. We have come to this place giving a long detour, among debris and traffic; dust, heat and DIN of machines. Now, as an enchantment, the world of men is already very behind, disappears, lost among their fumes, their haste and their fears.
In this site, in the bend of the River, there is a place for dreams, a place where to rest. Here, every part of the universe, has its rhythm and its Cadence, its unmistakable form of living. From the cliffs of stone until WSP looking for a small corner where to settle. The bug sits on the edge of the road and us stares, for a brief moment, then shakes her ears and is movement away from jumping, as a happy child exist. I look to my around and me impregnated for this silence. I think I’m a lucky guy because I frame this afternoon the pace of my life; and I am far from that desperate pace each other. While I walk the paths, sometimes I agree with other cyclists; When this happens, sometimes shoot behind them for a while, but then let them go, because I feel that my time has passed to shoot quickly.
When I do this, sometimes I feel in my heart a bit of nostalgia for those other days, when it was shooting well, but when they move away, and again I am alone and in silence, I perceive clearly that now I have to be me that mark the rhythm of my life. A slow and calm rhythm that allows me to contemplate the soul of things; everything that is hidden in the details, in the small things, something that can only perceive that slowly travels through life. And so, in my slowness, return to nature, and the field and the way I wrapped with his magic and his silence. A silence full of messages, so beautiful, so deep, so loaded from transcendence and mystery, which sometimes formed me a lump in the throat and up my bicycle tells me that I have to sit and rest. This afternoon passed along the River, I have seen very clearly that I should always find the rhythm of my life, that rhythm where my spirit is going to be able to progress. My path, my trip, takes place within me, and is a perfect trip that takes me to the deepest part of myself and everything that surrounds me, to that place that is forgotten even in the center of each heart. It now falls the afternoon, the sun sets, the sky is cloudy. Life is a trip on the back of a bicycle. A journey that sometimes leads to life and others to our destruction, but a journey, to the end, exciting and eternal, as any trip.