A bicycle spins.
Along a breezy path in the field.
Only the insides of the rubber wheels exhaust the earth.
He will soon arrive in Baghdad.
It is quite bustling there.
Soldiers of the Red Army, curly-haired artists, pale-skinned
&nbsp; Ryazan women, the spiral staircase of the cabaret.
The piano makes tinny sounds.
People standing on a mere footprint's worth of dirt are sharpened
&nbsp; crystals. One wrong step leads to death. The infinite propagation
&nbsp; of the sun.
At the source of the disease the plants dry up, and the clouds
&nbsp; tearing through the deteriorated city streets.
Just as the past is nothing for him but an arrangement of trees, it
&nbsp; is also cold like ash.
The goose feathers at the entrance, the inverted shadow.&nbsp;

I am alive. I thought, I am alive.

Chika Sagawa

The Mad House

Backside

Chika Sagawa

No Handlebars

The Mad House

Backside