P2: Granada is a love poem.
*tap* *tap* *tap* is this thing still on? Is anybody still there? Or have I been away too long and written to many words at this point to keep up? I’ll keep standing like a bad comedian on this self created soapbox of mine, actually no, let me sit down, and speak my stories into the voids of the internet crossed legged. P2 Continued: As I cycled into Andalusia, I found peaceful solitude. I rode for a few days along a greenway, an old railway rode turned into a bike path , a slow gravely incline along the mountain range “Sierra Los Filabres” it was quiet and peaceful beside mountains with snow, with rabbits, foxes, tunnels, and more goddamn Ramblas. I met a German guy, a total character, with the most packed bike I’ve ever seen, and who I could barely get a word in with. He had been cycling for 15 years. One leg From Vancouver to New York City up and back up to Valdor. His bike had trinkets from Nepal and a flag for anti-nuclear energy and a gay pride flag, but “not for the ...