As my northern hemisphere friends and family roll up shirtsleeves and tend to gardens recently springing to life, here in the southern cone, we’re starting to hibernate.
Out comes the heavy plumón (duvet), the cups of tea and mate, the long evenings spent hunkering down, curling up with a book, a pet or a mate.
But while I do begrudge the winter coming and putting my short-sleeved shirt collection far out of reach, something about the light makes me look twice at everything.
I was on my way home from the doctor’s one afternoon, pedaling along the ciclovía (bikepath) on what used to be the city’s beltway, but is now a way to get around within the city itself, as such is the extent of Santiago’s urban sprawl. And here on the bikepath, I turned to the left, and saw my giant shadow pedaling along beside me, both my tires and the shadow’s making that chrrrr chrrr sound as we crunched along the gravel. We both stopped, and then we took a picture of each other.
And here’s mine.