Dawn is beautiful, and shortly after I ride over kilometre 5000. I am the only thing moving in the town of Merida. Even the air is still. Empty chairs line the plaza, the fountain is shut off. I am eager to leave this place, built upon roman ruins, and head towards a blue splotch on my map too large to be just another dry valley. I pick unripe peaches from a tree. They are crisp like apples, and tart. I crunch several and pitch the stones at roadsigns. Clank.
Dozens of rabbits with race with me or are running away in the wrong direction.
