Coming home the other evening, I was charmed by the grace of this lovely cyclist in the Vienna twilight. With her silver flats, tutu skirt and perfect posture, she looks like a beautiful ballerina.
And on a nearby street, a woman walks her bicycle past a stationery shop, looking longingly at the illuminated display of fountain pens and leather journals.
Maybe it is the blinking lights mingling with the streetlamps, or the sound of the spokes in the dark, but there is something about bicycles and the city at night that evokes a sense of tenderness and magic.
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Coming home the other evening, I was charmed by the grace of this lovely cyclist in the Vienna twilight. With her silver flats, tutu skirt and perfect posture, she looks like a beautiful ballerina.
And on a nearby street, a woman walks her bicycle past a stationery shop, looking longingly at the illuminated display of fountain pens and leather journals.
Maybe it is the blinking lights mingling with the streetlamps, or the sound of the spokes in the dark, but there is something about bicycles and the city at night that evokes a sense of tenderness and magic.
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