Life is a river.
That's what Grandpa used to say.
Prefix... endings... Among the millions of different ways.
Grandfather uses imagery in each of my life How it ends and floats.
Following the purpose of a little contradiction, as well as overcoming obstacles.
Clear like air and black like night. </ P>
And no matter the direction of destination or how it moves or looks. </ P>
Based on what grandfather said, is a river it always flows.
What keeps it agile until it gets old and gray?
That mystery is what I will find.
It's a mystery it's hard to know.
The river has gone away and the sky looks cloudy.
For all of us, life is a great adventure, All its beauty, everything is related unnoticed.
The funny thing is that the river is not so far away.
This is the story from the beginning.
The urge to move forward.
Born from the layer of the earth. Growing from the seeds of change.
Forged in industrial fire.
The most efficient machine on earth creates a lot of efficient animals.
Bicycles... Our noblest discoveries.
The trail is like the season coming and leave.
Built based on diversity, beauty, classic elegance.
It will never be repeated.
Miracles made from the beginning and end , with millions of different ways.
He creates more by hand, than he does with machines.
Maybe that's why He understands both sides.
Ensuring we plant and cut down , we reap and sow.
And right, we do a great feeling .
But we are also able to do good.
After everything... No matter how smart we are.
We are just another part of the mystery.
Balance the bicycle correctly
Pedal keeps moving
Forget everything except now
Then there's no place you can't go through
That's what grandfather always say.
I've read that life is suicidal.
And that's true.
We might be the only creature on this knowing earth.
Maybe that's why we are so good at killing.
"It will die eventually, so we have the right to have it."
So we take , we take more.
But in the process of killing other entities that are less tangible.
Things like outpouring, excitement, interactions, goals.
Other ways of the world that have been lost.
Not based on one person...
But based on instinct, survive, from the chaos of life itself.
We spend time thinking, designing, questioning.
You can also spend a few seconds missing on one occasion.
There is no time to think. Just react.
Focus.
All worries and desires disappear from the riots.
When it starts to be unconscious.
When a building worker puts the shovel and takes a bicycle.
When creations set aside damage.
That's life.
I still remember my first bike.
The perfect banana chair with handle like a sparkling blue big motorbike.
Bright memories come back from every the magic of intelligence.
Letting go of the sidewalk, feeling tough, even when I was 7 years old.
The world suddenly grew exponentially.
We found the secret behind the alley, jumped four blocks.
We fell, gave me a wound big scratches under my hand.
Racing to the street corner shop as soon as possible.
Every bike, every new adventure, the gilding fades.
Rust will cover the paint.
Other kids will show off their new bike
My friend Jimmy got a BMX with a treadmill, without fenders.
He can make the bike jump without thinking of other people.
Then we found a dirt road and the world changed again.
We are increasingly in the forest, driving without hard roads.
Falling into the mud, while raining.
New kids will appear with teeth and bikes with big tires.
And I'm still on my old bicycle,
The paint layer looks more faded.
My parents promised me BMX bikes when I grew older.
But now it's supposed to be a chopper.
One day in the middle of a jungle chair my banana bike broke into two.
The end of everything.
I cried very long. Even my new bike doesn't come there.
That is a problem for me.
Until now.
No matter how well we make something, no matter how hard we
Like all things for various reasons, there is always something else that takes it all.
It only takes two hundred years for experiments and broken when it's time.
Two hundred years of renewal and discovery.
To not give up.
Complex design, Simple from nature.
No more bicycles from turnover to turnaround.
Using a human drive that makes it elegant.
But no matter how far the bike is from...
No matter how ready...
Emphasis hasn't stopped.
We're still
One day the river will meet the sea. Then it's not a river anymore.
It passes through the wheel of change.
Inside and out of experience.
Stories, adventures, grandfather...
No doubt stopping driving.
Missing... but not actually disappearing.
For now as far as we can say, the cycle of life...
It never ends...