A year ago, during an evening walk, I met a man in the city — probably in his sixties.
He didn’t block my way, but his eyes held a quiet wish to speak.

I stopped, took out an earbud, and let him know I was ready to listen.

He said:

I never thought it would come to this.

Then added:

You’re not planning to drink, are you? (tomorrow, the day after — during the holidays)

I told him no.

He said:

Don’t be afraid. You hear me? Don’t be afraid of anything.

I replied:

Thank you. All the best to you!

He answered:

No — all the best to you.

An ordinary evening. An ordinary passerby. But there was something in him — something real, calm, and wise.
He didn’t impose, didn’t ask for anything, but it felt like he wanted to say something important.

Unfortunately, in the flow of life, we often fail to notice His presence — in passing strangers, in other people.

Finally, I kicked off the cycling season! The hardest part of the first ride is getting in the zone. I try to recall the route, listen to the bike after the repair , and stay focused on the road. Physically, it’s not easy either — my heart rate spikes, my breathing’s off, and my legs burn on the very first climb.

But I love these first rides for that childlike feeling of freedom.

In the end, I rode 28.2 km. For the start — great! I’m in the season now.

The bike performed well (knock on wood!). I was worried that problems would pop up after the repair, but everything went smoothly. The upgraded transmission is a joy: you can really feel how all the power from my legs goes straight into the wheels, with no slippage or play.

I had the idea to take a new route, but decided to stick to the familiar one for the first ride. In the end, it felt like a new route — I was surprised to see how much the city had changed in a year¹ — where there used to be shacks, now there are (monotonous) high-rise buildings and bike lanes.

Anyway, I’m happy!
Riding on.

Finally got my steel horse back from the shop. Yep, that legendary blue Merida ;-). I skipped the last season — no time for rides — but this year I’ve got big plans: so many beautiful places to visit and many kilometers to cover.

A word of advice for everyone in the saddle: don’t put off maintenance. Otherwise, you’ll end up replacing not just the chain, but the cassette and chainrings too — speaking from experience.

I came across an interesting bike in the night city. It feels like I captured a little scene—something is clearly happening here. Maybe the stenciled figure left their bike by the pole and went off to a late-night store or a date. Or maybe we’re actually witnessing the aftermath of an accident? If you pay close attention to the world around you, you’ll start to notice all sorts of curious things. It’s useful to see the invisible.

Walked at sunset with the excellent lens Mir-1V.

It’s become a tradition: spring for me comes with a French soundtrack.
Today it’s Juliette Armanet and her À la folie.

A beautiful song — a great melody, beautifully sung, incredibly well put together!

Notice how Juliette emphasizes the endings of words. She marks them like punctuation at the end of sentences. It adds clarity, transparency, and creates the right rhythm for this song: a heartbeat, a dance, passion.

What’s interesting is this: the song is about losing control, yet the delivery is meticulous. It sounds like an attempt to hold oneself together through the music, to stay afloat. Like a spell. Like a ritual chant:

Fête… défaite… tête-à-tête…
Danse… cadence… chance…

Without those crisp endings, everything would fall apart — the words would blur together, losing their shape like hazy memories.

And the words themselves form striking contrasts:

• fête / défaite — celebration and defeat
• tête-à-tête — intimacy, closeness, but also enclosure
• danse / cadence / chance — everything spins and moves, like life or fate

French speech usually flows — soft transitions, fluid connections, as if everything melts into everything else. But here, it’s different: the endings cut through. The rhythm becomes broken, almost sharp — like breath caught at an emotional peak.

The stress on endings feels like a fixation of tension, like a point of no return.

A great example of how form serves content. In a song about mad love, where everything might fall apart at any moment, these precise endings bring ritual order.

Highly recommended listening!