The black bicycle with its basket looked ready for a considerable achievement. Mea had a more modest plan: to see where the morning would take her. She placed a hand on the handlebars and, before setting off, looked at a house across the canal. The bicycle waited. As it turned out, it would use that skill several times today.
Illustrated fiction inspired by original Travel2City photographs. The places come from separate journeys, not a one-day itinerary. Characters, dialogue, props and some composition and lighting are artistic interpretations.
The bicycle had two wheels, a comfortable shape and a basket large enough for several good ideas. Mea had not yet settled on a direction. Beside the dark corner building, she stopped before she had properly started. She looked across the water, then up towards the tower. Everything seemed interesting at once. She had intended to mount immediately. Instead, she kept both feet on the ground and decided this was a perfectly respectable way to begin.
The narrow canal facades could not be read in a single glance. Each window offered a different detail; each gable seemed convinced it deserved a stop. Mea simply pushed the bicycle. The handlebars sat comfortably in her hand, and the wheels turned at walking pace. Having a faster way to move, she thought, did not oblige her to use it. The houses were not going anywhere. She could be equally courteous towards them.
Beside the bridge, she put the bicycle on its stand. Only for a moment, she promised herself. The corner house across the water, however, had more details than expected. First she noticed the windows, then the curve above them, then light along the roof. The moment lengthened without resistance. Mea smiled. Her means of transport was showing remarkable patience today and gave no indication that it deserved to be put to better use.
A blue-roofed boat passed beneath the trees. Mea turned to watch it while the bicycle continued obediently beside her. She no longer promised herself that she would speed up shortly. The basket stayed light, her bag settled comfortably, and the morning lasted exactly as long as she needed. Perhaps she would ride later. Perhaps she would walk across another bridge. She had found a pace she enjoyed, without needing a street count to justify it.
“Nobody is ahead of me today. We each have our own pace.”
From notebook to book
The Map with No Last Page
Travel2City journeys continue between the covers of a book. Discover our illustrated travel world.
Later, remembering her Amsterdam morning, she could not say how far she had gone. She remembered a bridge’s curve, windows beside the water and a very patient bicycle. That was quite enough for a good journey.
