I knew my bicycle was in the old house and that I wanted to get it back. The bicycle had become as much a part of my existence as the clothes I wore to go out. I say to go out, because it represents me, just like clothes.
I nurtured the bicycle like a baby, replacing all the worn cables, carefully oiling all the necessary parts, aligning the brakes. Every now and then I stripped down to basics and reassembled it to ensure it was in original working condition. I even manually replaced all of the ball bearings once, a task that almost drove me insane and one that is infinitely more unbearable than replacing a soiled diaper.
It was my window to the world, the screen from which I watched life go by, observing the smallest yet all important passing details. It was my sanctuary in the storm and even when it had a flat tyre it was still my best friend.
Until the day I had to move to Australia. I sold my bicycle to a man when I had to leave. I tried to find a bicycle that'll replace the one I had, but somehow, I just don't like any of them. I just want my old bike back! And today, we landed on Taiwan. It's the first time I came back to Taiwan and the first thing I thought at that time was to look for the bike.
There's this old house that bothered me. I knew the bike was in there but...