“Traveling by bicycle is experiencing the world at human speed”

Sometimes, all it takes is a quiet departure. A morning without a sound, the turning of the wheels, the wind weaving through the spokes. And already, the world begins to shift. Traveling by bike isn’t just about moving forward — it’s about inhabiting every meter you cross, becoming one with the terrain, feeling the pulse of the earth through the tires.

Time stretches on the saddle. Hours don’t simply pass — they fill up. With harsh light on mountaintops. With mist in deep valleys. With sand, mud, asphalt, and dust. You don’t merely cross landscapes. You dissolve into them. You breathe them in. You listen.

And then comes the unexpected — always. A trail washed away, a flat tire, sudden rain. Nothing goes as planned, and that’s a gift. Because the bike teaches flexibility, humility, slowness. It forces you to let go, to trust the present moment. It puts you back in your rightful place — vulnerable, persistent, alive.

A bike journey is also a journey of encounters. You don’t seek them — they arrive. A glance, a wave, a helping hand, a piece of bread shared, a roof offered for the night. These simple moments, in their quiet sincerity, carry the beauty of long-forgotten truths. Where cars speed by, the bicycle pauses. Where everything is scripted, it strays. It opens the path to the heart.

And slowly, something begins to loosen. Habits, certainties, routines. You leave behind what weighs you down. You ride toward simplicity, toward essence. The excess falls away. Only the essential remains.

And then, the journey becomes an inner silence. A dialogue between breath and road. You learn to listen to the wind, to read shadows, to feel the rhythm of the seasons deep in your muscles. You discover yourself, the farther you go. You come back to who you are by riding out into the world.

Traveling by bike is writing a different kind of story. One without noise, without haste, without pretense. A story that takes its time. A true story.