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Swallows swarm in the sky. The sweat on his forehead no longer breaks. I put the bicycle on the ground. I sit on the side of the road, with the same ease with which a man sits on the sofa at home.

When can a bicycle traveler be considered one?

I take off my shoes for a moment and cool my feet in the grass.
You are a bicycle traveler when you have no plans at seven forty-eight. And there is no intention of making plans. I believe that's how it is. Maybe I'll ask someone who actually is a bicycle traveler.
I remove some hazelnuts from my handlebar bag.
It's nineteen forty-eight.
We get back in the saddle. Without programs obviously. Let us fantasize. Here and there in Val d'Orcia and on the slopes of Monte Amiata (Siena and Grosseto).

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