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Stone

An anonymous man on an anonymous bicycle riding down an anonymous street. He rides towards his shadow, which wisely stays out of his way. There’s no sound at all, except for the raspy murmur of knobby tires on old paving stones and the very slight whisper of the still air being disrupted by a swift-moving body.

In a moment he’ll be gone, taking with him the soft sound of his passing. It will be as if he was never there. And perhaps he wasn’t. All we have is the memory of that bike, that shadow, that sound. There is no evidence of his existence. No proof that he passed this way at all, at all.

Except for this photograph.

-- greg fallis

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