After a brief rain shower, I am cycling around New York City, gleaming cobbled streets on a bright sun filled afternoon.
Here to visit mum, I left my stuff with her in lower Manhattan before I set off with the racer. I have to be careful with its thin tires but nevertheless I am pulling the bike expertly up hills to discover new side streets, while still dodging large pothole puddles.
Read more
I turn off the main road and slope down into a narrow mews with cute white row houses before returning, then ducking down into another mews, over more large cobbles and deserted lanes.
A woman passes by in the opposite direction on her own bike and I turn into where she came from to see what is there.
And the road has two paths either side of a grassy bern that leads down to the river. The paths are muddied by the foot traffic and I see people, bathers by the waters edge, so I take my bike down the right hand path until I near the shore.
An old woman comes out of the water. She is naked, her large pendulous breasts swaying with each step are shapeless bulbous cones. It’s too cold for me, I think, for bathing. And then her husband too, comes out of the water. He too, is naked, his blanched white skin contrasted against the grey waters of the river behind him. And his penis is small with a red tip and shriveled by the cold.
As I pass him and cross to the other side of the bern, down at the waters edge, I see that he has a piece of fern like moss attached to his right foot. He bends down to pull it off, just as I pull my bike over to the left hand path.
And as I walk the bike further away from the bathers and up the opposite bank, my back to the old man, I feel an arm on my shoulder. It feels soft and goey, a heavy weight flopped across my back.
“Eww, what is that?”
As I twist around I feel more arms heavy around my shoulders and neck, and I twist around further and swipe out at the load.
On the path an octopus falls to the sandy floor, its thick dark grey limbs slimy and flecked with white dots.
Photo by Rennings via Flickr
