ninth cycling trip

At night the following letter was stuck to my handle-bar:

"It's been three days since I wrote you, my dear. Remember? Have you noticed? I’m sitting here by your bed just watching you. I’m watching you sleep. By the way, in the meanwhile I’m solving the riddle: if I’m holding your left breast in my left hand and your right breast in my right hand, it’s possible that my arms aren’t crossed. Maybe I’m standing behind you, and I’m holding you. I won’t let you. And together with you I’m not falling down myself. I love you. "

I love him.

eighth cycling trip

All day I sat next to your bed and watched you. I realized where I know you from. After my hand accidentally touched your nipple, I held your left breast in my left palm, and your right breast in my right palm, and all of a sudden it dawned on me. I had said that I will get lost in time, and so it happened. I didn’t understand many things around me. The people spoke an unknown language, they said “zip file, email, skype, porn”. But as I look at it, these doctors are stupid, they don’t touch you all day long, just watch the flickering images on the wall, so you just believe me, I'm here beside you, and from now on I will stay here. When I put my hand between your thighs, in an instant your everything and my everything were wet, I didn’t even have to move to come. Before falling asleep, I read you out fragments from the winding past of cycling, but after I still didn’t sleep, I kept watching you.

joint cycling trip

Only rarely do I get in the zone. Today, however, I got in, and almost stayed in as well. I walked a huge flower in the snow for you, so it became snow, flower. I looked at it from above, even though I knew it would be hard to find my way back in time. As I walked, suddenly you strolled beside me in the whiteness. You were holding my hand. Along the way we saw a raven and a dead dog, the dog's head had already been half eaten by the foxes. “Listen to the silence”, I whispered, and you listened. Later I found a letter in my pocket which read, it’s the angels who are perfect and not us, the flawless. I recognized it was the black priest’s handwriting. When we got out of the zone, at the end of the road stood our bike that I had long thought to be lost.

sixth cycling trip

And the snow kept falling. Slowly it wrapped everything, the bike tracks behind me as well, so I often looked back because I was afraid that I would never find the way back to the place I want. It must have been a long time since the gate of the graveyard was opened; the door handle was also rusty. I looked for a gap in the fence; I stepped over it to get in. I left the bike on the ground, nobody was passing by there anyway. I didn’t want to be scared and I wasn’t scared. I thought, dancing is happier among the living because I step to the left once so I can step to the right as well. Nothing is easier than that. The dance of the dead is simply more relaxed, it doesn’t matter which way you step nor how many times. I thought, I didn’t say it because I didn’t know how to say it, that once I worried so much that I cycled the whole night in frost and snow. I didn’t have lights, so the coachmen yelled at me. But now I didn’t know where to go, so I just tossed and turned sleeplessly. At the end of the cemetery I found the grave that I was looking for, but the name was not on it: it faded over the long years.

fifth cycling trip

I just stood there and watched her, motionless. I didn’t dare to touch her, her body was so beautiful, and I was also scared that if I touch her she will vanish, like a passing dream. My tongue started just in my mind. I started at her navel. Slowly I circled in the little pit, and then I also licked around it. I made larger and larger circles, I wandered around her whole belly. Her skin was incredibly velvety and appeared to have been dusted with glitter powder; tiny, sweet little granules stuck to the tip of my tongue as I was passing around. My hand accidentally touched her left nipple, and I tickled the right one with my mouth. Warmth flooded her chest, and her nipples began to swell. I was chewing them with my teeth. I tried to bite as gently as possible so as not to hurt. I felt that my hands started down her belly, when the door squeaks, I open my eyes and I know I must get out of here at once.

forth cycling trip

All day I browsed through an old family album. I tried to discover people I know in the photos, but I couldn’t find anyone. When I was closing one of the windows overlooking the street, a piece of broken glass cut my finger. I watched if I was leaving any bloodstains after me, but the snow remained white. I sat on the garden swing too and swung myself silently for several minutes. It was very good, a lot of memories came to my mind. Today I looked more at the woman who seemed familiar at the clinic, and while I was covering her naked body, my hand accidentally touched her left nipple.

third cycling trip

When I woke up I remembered a sentence, then I kept repeating it all day. “It’s the women I love, I have always loved women”, I kept saying, although I don’t even remember when the last time I was with a woman was. I mean I did, but my body didn’t anymore. I had two apples and a bread roll for breakfast. For a long time I was looking at the knife blade and moving it up and down in front of my face, but I couldn’t decide weather my eyes seemed brown or green in it. I got to the clinic in time although I took a detour, the sun was shining in my face and its light dazzled me. Before the rounds I had time to look through the beds. The day before yesterday a young woman was brought in, her body was full of bruises and she was so frozen through that she had hardly been brought back to life. The professor had examined her several times, later an unknown doctor appeared too, and after lengthy consultations they decided it would be best if they tied her down. I stood next to her bed for a long time, her face seemed familiar from somewhere. “Have beautiful dreams”, I whispered to her at last.

second cycling trip

While I was coming home, over the hill, I ran out of breath, and I had to stop for a moment. I leaned the bike against a tree, and set off straight into the thick of the forest. Everything was very white around me, and some unknown whiteness was drifting from the sky. All along, I felt like someone was holding my hand. I also heard a female voice, as if she had shouted after me “Zoli, Zoli”, but when I looked back I didn’t see anyone. Then I remembered the incident from yesterday, and suddenly the blood ran out of my brain. I felt an irresistible desire to touch myself, and I did so. I was rough and firm. I came quickly. At the end I embraced the first tree and wiped my wet palm into its cortex. On the way back I met a man who must have been going to steal some trees, I nodded to him, but he didn’t deign to answer me.

first cycling trip

I had a bread roll and two apples for breakfast. While I was peeling off the skin of the fruit, the knife blade glinted in the sun, and for a second my face reflected in it. I looked at it, but in the first moment I didn’t recognize myself. Today I worked a lot, and it was only late at night when I managed to arrange everything. In the evening I went for a ride with my bicycle, the moon was shining on me, it was cold, but I didn’t feel it for a minute. When I finished the round, my heart leapt because it felt like someone was thinking of me strongly. For a moment my voice faltered, and memories began to appear, I don’t know where from. But all of them were deep, and painfully beautiful. While taking a bath, I discovered a small thorn in my left forefinger, then I sucked it until all trace of it was gone forever. Last night I dreamed of a chapel, I had to pray on my knees a lot to calm my soul. Women ran around me in black scarves, and grinned at me with their bad teeth. But finally I escaped.

fifteenth cycling trip

Lead by a sudden impulse, I hop on my bike and set off for wherever the road takes me. I have no destination, but I do have a goal: to find Zoli, wherever he is. I ride in the snow for hours, lights come towards me, and people shake their fists at me, but nothing interests me, I just pedal steadily ahead. I rove over the familiar places, the parks, the groves; I ramble all the places where I have been with Zoli, where Zoli took my hand, where Zoli tickled my tongue with his tongue, where I could lay my head on Zoli’s shoulder. And I know that I am right, and not my husband. Zoli certainly does exist, and it’s not just me imagining him for myself. And I remember how much emotion, how much beauty, how much care, how much kindness he brought into my life. I cut across hedge and ditch, and I am sure that I’ll find him somewhere. Then, everything goes black, and when I come round again, I have bruises all over my arms and legs, I ache all over, there are thorns and leaves in my hair, I don’t remember anything. But I do know that the bite on my thigh comes from him. The snowflakes cover my body slowly, and slowly everything becomes white around me.

...

I think I have a minute left to write. What can I write in this time that I haven’t already written? Maybe just that I love you. Although I have written it many times recently, even though I’m not used to writing it down, nor to saying it, but you should know that whenever I write it, always and again I feel only that I really love you a lot, and I have never, and perhaps I will never, love anyone like this. And it ends here. It’s starting to get very cold.

accidental cycling

On Saturday morning, a bike cut through in front of a camera of the UTV at the M1-M7 entrance section. An unknown cyclist appeared in the photos on the double four-lane road. There is no video of the action, dangerous to the public as well as to the cyclist, but there is a photo.

Around 8:30 in the morning on Budaörs road a cyclist is hurriedly veering across two lanes, while the public transport bus, and two apparently fast moving cars, are on the snowy road. Because of the camera’s angle, it’s not sure whether, after having climbed the crush barriers, the cyclist reached the other side of the road unharmed, but no accidents were reported in the neighborhood.

http://kerekagy.blog.hu/2010/01/30/bringas_amokfuto_az_m1_m7_esen

fourteenth cycling trip

When I look in the mirror, I see Zoli in my eyes. The moon was already up when we met today, with pleasure I forgot my own name for a moment, and mistakenly said “Agnes”. Yet I did open the window so that Zoli could come in more easily. I strongly caught hold of him by the collar so he wouldn’t fall off the sill, I pulled him to myself, and even if it was an impossible situation, I moved so that he came as soon as possible. Then I let him go, and I thought, sometimes he doesn’t even know that I always see him. It felt like saliva on the edge of my mouth, but when I reached for it with my handkerchief, a line of blood remained on my finger.

thirteenth cycling trip

Today my husband asked me if I was still in love with Zoli the Turk. I answered with a 'no'. But if he knew where I am not hiding Zoli, even he would be surprised. Sometimes I make him creep out from the inside of my coat, and sometimes from the folds of my skirt. Because I can make him come forward at any time, the good God heard my prayers. He showed me the way to Zoli: I found him high up there, and I haven't let him go since. Once, a long time ago, I cycled up the hill. I remember, nothing could keep me back, neither the cold, nor the meters of snow, nor the fear of my husband. Zoli was sitting in the room, staring in front of himself, but then he saw me, and without a word he jerked me in. Immediately he fell to me, right away he stuck his tongue in my mouth, and after having undressed me he stuck it in my cunt too, and he kept licking until he sucked out the last drop of cunt juice. I felt then, for the first time, that my common sense was lost. Since then it has been a few times.

twelfth cycling trip

Sometimes I think Zoli is only a dream. Yet every single moment I feel his taste in my mouth, and every single moment I feel his hardness between my legs. And I feel his tongue as it strokes me, his teeth as they bite me, sometimes gently, sometimes roughly, and I feel his eyes on me the most, even though I know that no-one else can see what I see: with his eyes he follows my every move.

eleventh cycling trip

When Zoli appeared today, my husband was sitting opposite of me. We were burning cedar, his eyes glowed, and I was afraid that he’ll take out the whip again. By the way, I haven’t even told you yet how I call you. Clara. My name is Clara. And it does make a difference what you lay on: a cheep stick or a smart chick, keep that in mind. And I adore you, have I already told you that today? Have I? You know: my memory, that is you.

eleventh cycling trip

Sometimes, I don’t know myself what is real and what is only imagined. Today Zoli came, he seated me on the back seat and we were going for a ride with his bike. Then he threw me to the ground, pulled down my skirt, my stockings and my knickers, bent down between my legs, and excited me with his tongue until I came from delight. It took a long time, but Zoli’s patience didn’t flag. When I climaxed, everything around me stopped for a moment, I saw only distant lights shining, and I knew I was in heaven. I don’t know whether it was the future, the past or the present, but the way that Zoli stood there in front of me, it was as certain as death.

tenth cycling trip

“I am the only one among many in your harem, do not deny it”, I told Zoli today, but he just shook his head. The end of the day came, and instead of spanking me, he kissed my forehead.

Zoli drives a car

Zoli's jumped in the car, and then suddenly dashed away. He didn’t say, but I knew, I wouldn’t see him for days. I also knew he was going far away. And I was afraid that he would never come back. I would have gladly sat behind him on the back seat, and never ever have get out. I thought about getting on my bike and setting out after him, but he didn’t even tell me where he was going. I just wiped my eyes, because dust got into it. At least I thought that that's what I'd say if someone asked me. But no-one asked, because I was alone all day. I haven’t seen my husband either. It was dark and very cold. It could have been minus ten. I tried knocking on the door, hoping someone heard it, but the walls echoed only “Zoliii, I miss youu, Zoli I miss youuu”.

eighth cycling trip

Today, Zoli suddenly dropped in to our place. Fortunately, my husband wasn't at home. I was so surprised that I almost fell back but luckily Zoli caught me in time. He said that today there will be a concert in the house. And a whole orchestra will be present. All kinds of musical instruments. I just stared at him wondering what he meant. But he just said: wind, string, plucking, spinning instruments, percussion. No keyboard instruments because he knows that I don't like them. Bassoon, pipe, lute, harp, guitar, violin, flute, and whatever I can imagine. And he alone would play every instrument. But instead of real instruments Zoli used my body. First he took me out of the case. Each of his touches, as he tipped me, made a beautiful tone out of me. My voice became the music. And he played so, but so, but so that everyone could envy him. And Zoli plucked, Zoli blew, Zoli sucked, Zoli stringed, Zoli bowed, Zoli spun, Zoli beat. He played music to my ears. I only regret that never ever can anyone else hear this music. Neither the clicks, nor the stampings, nor the oral bass nor the oboe playing. The mouth whistles, the tongue fifes. They can't see the drumming, the playing of the bow, or the sextets. I didn't know that I was so keen on music before. And on Zoli of course.

seventh cycling trip

I woke up on the floor, all day I was lying crashed to the floor. I also had a few near-death experiences, I think. I read everything I had ever written, but only one sentence kept repeating itself in me over and over again, like a stuck gramophone record:

Zoli, you stabbed me in the heart well enough!