4.6.21 // the bicycles of Rome

I love to imagine the owners of the bicycles I see locked around the city.
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These bicycles are a small representation of how their owners show up in the world, and what they need in this brief existence on earth.
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Do they ride a thin-tire road bike, a bike begging for their owner to hit the long-distance stretches between small Italian towns? Do they pick a mountain bike with thick-tread, sturdy handlebars, and a frame for the countless dirt paths around the city and the never-ending cobblestone streets? Or do they pick a classic frame with a basket meant to be filled with local market foods and fresh flowers, circulating the veins of the city with ease?
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This pink bike was one I couldn't simply walk by, leaning effortlessly against a lamp post like she was meant to be there.
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Demanding my attention with her subtle black accents, vintage headlamp, and curved handlebars, she was stunning and a vision that blended in with her surrounding but not so much that she wasn't the center of attention...
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Imagining the owner of the pink bike, we know the type- a magnet in a crowd with an energy about her that you can't turn away from. She pulls you in with her effortless comfort in who she is and where she is, uninterrupted in her perfect flow through time and place.
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She'd be beautiful, in a natural way but not in a subtle way. Show-stopping but not without her confidence lifting the confidence of those around her.
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A mixture of flesh, bones, and beauty just like the gears and gadgets of a perfect pink bicycle.