The sentimental sophist Werner Herzog once said something like "traveling by foot is a poetic act that reveals an ecstatic truth", even though I make it my charge to not join in on the arrogant ramblings of a Bavarian madman who is also a pathological liar, but in this particular case, I force myself to acknowledge some amount of agreement. Only by walking can the festering aromas of the urine caked streets bring a rouge colour to my pallor visage. To step into the viscous epidermis of the city cleaves us away from the illusion of insulation that is bicycle transportation. The modern velocipede is a mountain of assumed bourgeois pretension. The bicycle is a mediated moment in which engineered frames and petrochemical gum tree substitute leads one on a hasty speedy path towards death under the guise of independence and choice, the two platonic shadow puppets of late stage capitalism.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Jun 2013 19:35:00 +0000
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