I borrowed a bike today and went tearing down the street pretending I was not afraid of the semi-trucks and armored vehicles behind me. The ride lasted ten minutes, but I felt free like I was biking home or getting lost in the green forest behind Spencer's Butte in Eugene, Oregon. Then I stopped at the covered dining area, my only access to wireless internet. My excitement evaporated when I leaned the bike against one of the buildings. The flies landed on my eyes lids, cheeks and fingers. Pigeons and other littel birds flittered in and out of my view like trash blowing in the wind. I was wearing my last clean shirt and pants that I refused to wash because the turn around at the laundry service is seventy-two hours and I cant go that long without my blue jeans. Even though the cotton material and small pockets are most impractical they remind me of the world I used to live in.
Several hours later I rode the bike back to the airfield and walked home.
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