Ballad Of Spring Bicycle
We descend a mountain pass. There is something special in the environment, the days lengthen, become perfect is spring. My whole being shouts to my heart that it wants to revive. The heart responds like an animal in heat. The soul is stirred. It is the life that everything permeates it.
It is the life that makes its way through every pore of the skin. My brain is prepared for this magnificent hatching. Millions of neurons by exploiting a huge spectacle of perfect chemistry. Things vibrate and launch your message to the wind. Now no time for sleep. Every minute counts. Fools and geniuses are agitated impatient, men and women fight for their happiness, writers, artists, musicians, the wise men of this world, dream of sounds and silences.
All the intensity, the roar of nature and of life unfold before my astonished eyes. It is the beginning of a cycle, the thaw of the reason, singing to the genius and madness. Hypothermia of the insignificant, sensible and rational. The rite of nature has begun. Everything flourishes. His men, grow to life their women; Arden their passion faces and in their eyes, their hands, their gestures in every little curve of their bodies, is every human being, in another, a response. Life is agitated and trembles, vibrates and strives to escape, feel, grow, fly, know viva. The soul strives to move away from the trivial and everyday. It is the call of nature. The annual flood that drags us, endless cycle, the ancestral volcano, creating perfect aurora. There is a sound, a color, a flavor that permeate every feeling. Nothing escapes this fascinating spring. Everything is so full of life and beauty, everything is so perfect and intense, it produces a sweet pain.
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