It’s cloudy, as if it’s about to rain. I’m hurrying home to grab a spare battery for my camera, but suddenly I freeze: in the overcast garden, everything around is lit by a calm, beautiful young spring tree. Despite being in a rush, I stop, take out my camera, and snap a few shots. I’m eager to capture this magical moment. A moment of birth.
A few hours later — The moment I turned into the dark .
This poster is a reflection on the standardization of thought, on the habit of hiding behind ready-made forms. On people who choose convenient packaging over living presence.
Canned — a symbol of how we preserve ourselves: sealed, sterile, faceless. But inside — there’s still a human. Maybe.
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.
I’m making movies.
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.
