A day passes in which I am pursued by a parade through a small, uninteresting town. The treads of the bike gum up with candy and I weave through crowds of adult men on small tricycles. Each empty road leads me back to the long line of people marching through the streets. They wave from the sidewalks and I wave back, my face a rictus under the helmet, a taut smile that says ‘I’m not supposed to be here but I’m doing the best I can.’
-traveler
