Lima is quite gray outside summer, so I grabbed my bike and took it down South, to the beach towns I used to spend my summers as a child. Every kilometer became a memory to be cherised, every shoppette front had my and my friend's initials carved on the pavement, the lamp posts had our names painted in white, memories ... to ride 160km into the past, that's what today felt like. Not one person recognized me, not one I could point a finger to and say: I know your father, too many new faces, to many new roads, too many things change, thankfully the ocean still remembers our names...
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