You see, everything gets complicated when people want to have things on their own. Snufkin. Comet in Moominland.
Arizona. Phoenix. I’m staying in Nicolle’s and Mark’s house. It is still hot outside, over one hundred degrees, but there is air conditioning inside. And the swimming pool. And swimming is a little bit like flying.
I arrived to Phoenix late at night; as I already wrote, it is impossible to cycle at noon, but even travelling only in the morning until about ten o’clock, and then from sunset to midnight gives the chance to cover about seventy miles per day.
Before I got to Phoenix, I visited Rob and his wife, Kelly. They live in Kingman. Rob is a man, who nabbed me at night in the bushes in Oregon, in December, 2011. We went to church, where a Mass was celebrated by a pastor’s daughter, and then we went to see the Hoover Dam. Rob and Kelly are these kind of people, that when you think about them, you immediately smile. Out of gratitude. Maybe one day I will have the opportunity to repay their hospitality in Poland. I would love to.
A few kilometers outside of Kingman, when I pushed the bike through the sand along Interstate 40, looking for a hole in the high fence, through which I could finally get on the other side, I noticed a man, walking along the street. He was dressed in a light shirt and dark pants. He was walking in the same direction as me, but a little faster. After some time he disappeared from sight and soon I forgot about him. After some time I was finally able to get to the highway, and soon after I made a brief stop in the parking lot, where I ate a hot dog and rested a while. After an hour I went on, to the intersection of Highway 93, which leads to Phoenix.
Driving at night is a bit like swimming with your eyes closed. You close your eyes, move your body, and then you see images displayed in front of you. Movement generates more images, or maybe just makes them more intense?
Just a month passed, since I left Portland, but it seems much more. I lie down in the shade, today I’m not going anywhere. I will listen to the music that generates images, about which Agnieszka Glińska said it was music to movies that appear when you close your eyes