madbikeboy

Wax lyrical and freedom.

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Grey queues and anonymous boxes, the sound of Nina Simone drifting.
Freedom curtailed and permissions revoked, gale force winds and rain and Versace suit mix like oil.
Dark grey skies, God painted a monotone for the urban crawl, everything is dark, foreboding, depressed.

"Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Reeds driftin on by you know how I feel..."

Out of nowhere, pillion with her man, brightly coloured arms in violent pink outstretched, soaring like an eagle, fingertips dancing with the joy of being free.

For a moment my soul connects and soars too.