Riding a bycicle reveals the only certainty of existence: time whizzing by. Each turn of the wheel is the reminder of a precious instant in our existence passing by. Grab it or lose it.
After so many years stories started to accumulate along with images. Places getting confused, events forgotten.
After 50, memory is frail, so some time ago we decided to keep a log of some of our trips for posterity. For our posterity, that is. And for anyone else wanting to share and come along.
Every trip is a rebellion.
Every arrival is triumph and celebration.
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