quintsquest

[quintsquest]

He is not your average Joe. Not the son of the baker nor the coffee maker. Even though there’s nothing wrong with that. He just wants things, great things, different things than I want for my life. What the family wants. He takes his bike out every morning, his crimson red bike with slick tires and the brown leather saddle on which he barely sits. Yes, he is one of those people who stands while cycling. Always flowing, always going somewhere. Just like the grand violist Ivry Gitlis urges his students to play the strings. He never stops. He is the river, he is the wind. He wants justice and peace and kindness in the streets. Today he leaves his bike though, and me. Says urgently he must do something, something that matters, somethings that lasts, defeat our long-sworn enemy. But I rip his shirt, slap his face, shout as he gets into this crimson red car: “but the enemy is not there my brother. It’s here.” I beat my chest. “It’s within, it’s within!”  THÁI NHÀN on Pexels

[quintsquest]