eleventh cycling trip

Sometimes I cycle only spiritually. Then I see myself in a room: my eyes closed. In this room everything is good. Today I remembered Jockey’s verse:

I would love

For you to love me

As you would love

For me to love you

For you to love me.

We were only calling him the crazy poet until one day he warmed the water in the pool with his hands. Allegedly he wrote the poem for his grandmother, even today I don’t understand how, nor why. Or what this whole thing is about. Today Zoli spent the whole day with me, we were drawing angels in the snow: I completely adore him.