Who am I to change the course of destiny?

Another long trip.

This time it was 20.25 km to Cojímar, the town where the American novelist, short-story writer and journalist Ernest Hemingway wrote his novel The Old Man and the Sea in 1951, and later won two very important literary prizes with it: the Pulitzer Prize in 1953 and the Nobel Prize on 28 October 1954.

“The punishment of the hook is nothing. The punishment of hunger, and that he is against something that he does not comprehend, is everything. Rest now, old man, and let him work until your next duty comes.”
― Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea

It wasn't just another Sunday.

I thought of him standing here on this shore, when heaven seemed to unload on all my humanity an overflowing bowl of desires and whims, whether of angels or demons. It doesn't matter. I don't know if it was suggestion.

People do a thousand things there, from the most mundane to the most spiritual.

I was just recovering. My body was sweating. I watched my new biking companions in their conversations and laughter and I was smiling too; although my mind is always busier at certain edges. As restless as it is. My mind that always travels in pursuit of another self, and in turn, she too often searches for me beyond time and space.

Because it's not only about tiredness and travelling by bike. I am more and more connected to me and to what I am. And more in love with me... and with her... or with you, should I say?

One day you will read me, or maybe not, but it doesn't matter. It's enough for me to think of you, for you to feel that little tickle in your belly and the emotion, which can even bring you a tear.

Do you know that you have pushed me to the limit, that sometimes I feel the need to give up because my strength fails me, my heart beats hard and I can hardly breathe?

Heights, descents, more heights... a sky in which we levitate as well as fall and fall without end.

You know I want you and I want you to be my endless story.

I was looking at the marks on the dogtooth limestone.

The rugged coast as it is... so much tenderness and at the same time danger.

I walked carefully.

I didn't want to leave my skin there.

My skin is made for you, for your lips.

Every millimetre of my flesh and guts was meant for you and your pleasure.

Who am I to change the course of destiny?

I write. I just write and leave a few clues for you to find me.

Golden hour, sea, an exhausted body that regenerates (slowly) and the return - another 20.5 km on wheels and music on a small bluethooth speaker. So that my feet don't tingle.

I got home around 9 o'clock at night 🤐 and made a coffee (cortadito) for me and my friends who accompanied me to make sure I got there safe.

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But they don't forgive me for leaving the camera at home and taking all the photos with my phone.

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