For some reason, 5 - 6 hours earlier I had imagined what would happen if my brakes stopped working, what would you do in a situation like that - what could you do? Imagining the rickshaw with me in it taking the leap off a cliff just hanging in the air for a few seconds, with my mind racing to fire out as many "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" shit's as it can before finally tumbling down the side of the mountain like you see in big Hollywood movies, only without the fiery explosion at the end.
After month of trying to put together a decent looking web-shop for the blog – it felt like my body had aged a 100 years from the cycling shape I had spent a year and a half building up only 5 month earlier – my back hurt like hell and everytime I climbed more than 5 sets of stairs it felt like I was wearing a fat suit.
I didn't imagine they were following me around because they liked they liked the smell of my farts, but because there is an actual security risk, and especially for a white blond European cycling on hardware expensive enough to keep a family or a certain cause going for a good while longer.
Go’ find me on Instagram, I try to upload more quality than quantity with a little story interesting or stupid connected to the pictures.