I knew my bicycle was in the old house and that I wanted to get it back. The bicycle had become as much a part of my existence as the clothes I wore to go out. I say to go out, because it represents me, just like clothes.
I nurtured the bicycle like a baby, replacing all the worn cables, carefully oiling all the necessary parts, aligning the brakes. Every now and then I stripped down to basics and reassembled it to ensure it was in original working condition. I even manually replaced all of the ball bearings once, a task that almost drove me insane and one that is infinitely more unbearable than replacing a soiled diaper.
It was my window to the world, the screen from which I watched life go by, observing the smallest yet all important passing details. It was my sanctuary in the storm and even when it had a flat tyre it was still my best friend.
Until the day I had to move to Australia. I sold my bicycle to a man when I had to leave. I tried to find a bicycle that'll replace the one I had, but somehow, I just don't like any of them. I just want my old bike back! And today, we landed on Taiwan. It's the first time I came back to Taiwan and the first thing I thought at that time was to look for the bike.
There's this old house that bothered me. I knew the bike was in there but don't know why. It was just one of those inexplicable in life you know the things. You know they are there and you know everything about them except the explanation.
The light was fading when I finally plucked up courage to approach the...