Life On Two Wheels

Along the river and toward the mountains a morning shadow shimmers across the road. The rays of the first light jet through the trees and across a figure gliding upon the road. His breath trails in short spurts, petrified as it hits the icy air. All is quiet except the slight sound of the athlete as he summons himself for yet another days work. Soon the rest of the world will bustle with life as well and the brief simplicity of cyclist and nature will disappear into the everyday struggle of life in full motion; the errands and intervals, the appointments and intersections, and the deadlines and finish lines OutPaceTheRace

Saturday, May 16, 2009

The white table


The table that’s white is in our kitchen. It has a tablecloth on it. It’s a perfect size for the balcony. Not too big. Not too small. And it folds out to accommodate up to eight guests. When a balcony in Spain reaches certain proportions it changes from a balcón to a terraza. We refer to both the “front balcony” and the “rear balcony” as terrazas. We put the white table on the “rear balcony.” Moved it from the kitchen and took it right out there; into the sun and elements of the weather. It seemed like a good solution, solving the problem of having no table on the terraza and liberating the kitchen from the unnecessary presence of an ugly white table. For several days we looked down on our neighbors, across and around the park at the other balconies. We saw their tables, the designer tables, the ebb and flow of the feng-shui on their balconies. We looked at them with our noses upturned. We were better. We had a cheap folding table made of wood and coated in a blinding white paint. We had a table that was destined to serve dutifully for years. That evening our landlord called. Put the white table back in the kitchen, it will get soiled out in the weather… Soiled? No, it’s a piece of crap why would it get soiled, and even if it did, who cares? How did he know it was on our terraza? Where does he live? Is he always looking in on us? Steve took his camera and affixed the telephoto lens. He scanned every window in search of the over intrusive landlord.
In slow motion, we brought the table back in. But the rather juvenile thought crossed our minds: to move all the rest of the furniture out on to the terraza.