Permanently Parked.

August 11th, 2013, 4pm

It was 24.4°C. The breeze was gentle.

To most kids a bike is a symbol of freedom. A chance to escape the limits of foot travel and roam further afield. Short of donning an imaginary cape and jumping out of a tree, it’s the closest you can get to flying. Maybe the memory of that feeling of flight still resides inside this bike as it sits, kickstand down, tethered in a patch of unmown grass by flat tires and a rusted chain. Or maybe that feeling faded as the rust spread and the bike turned from a faithful steed to a nostalgic lawn ornament.

Paul, Lia and Anna said thanks.

Share this moment

Michael Silva

a somewhat undisciplined existence.

Create a free account

Have an account? Sign in.

Sign up with Facebook