Midnight Swims

“She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent hours on the riverbank. She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims…”
― Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

Mural, Deep Ellum
Dallas, Texas

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What I learned this week, July 2, 2017

Magazine Street, New Orleans

 

A Cyclist Writes His Own Obituary

 

Bike rider in front of the Winspear Opera House. If you are wondering, the photo is cropped and upside down.

Let’s get this straight: If something horrible happens to me on a ride, don’t ever say I died doing what I love. I feel no affection about the idea of getting pulverized by a 4,000-pound SUV, especially if the driver was flipping through Instagram. Still, I recognize that something might happen. And rather than leave it up to other people to commemorate my life and death on the bike, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands—with facts based on a terrifying encounter with a speeding Porsche that actually happened—just in case the next run-in turns out differently.

Read the whole thing.