Philippe Petit

It is a duel between Manuel Roca and the time spent on the road on his bike. He left home at 5 o’clock this morning; the sky was overcast and some patchy rain kept him company during the first hour. He was on his own and had not planned to meet anyone for the entire length of his training. Manuel Roca headed south where he came to ride on roads which often climb up some ‘gentle’ hills. He needed some hard work out sections to give his body the right stimulus in view of Pecol. Whilst climbing, Manuel Roca had the impression that his legs were in good shape. At almost all time, he pushed a hard gear permitting him to rise to the summit of each climb as fast as he wished. Every now and then the clouds opened up allowing a pale sun to peep through. Manuel Roca forgot his sunglasses and kept hoping that the clouds would shut up the blue spaces. The fickle weather did not hinder his ‘gallop’ amid a breathtaking country-side. He prudentially sipped water from his bottles because he knew there was no way to refill them. Three bottles had to last for the whole time on the saddle. Unlike Italy, where there is at least one fount for each village, in the Mato Rujo area there are not public fountains where cyclists can drink water from. Manuel Roca thinks that this is an enormous default for a country which is worldwide considered modern and civilised. For that reason, he slipped an extra bottle in his back pocket jersey in addition to the two bottles that he normally carries in the two bottle-cages which are on the bicycle frame. With still two hours remaining to do, Manuel Roca ran into his old friend Diana Lombard who was struggling up a slope on her flashy bicycle. He stayed with her for 5 minutes and then off he went to conclude his long-lasting battle with the time. He got into his apartment at 15 minutes past 11. He did not feel exhausted as he could imagine after having spent more than 6 hours on the bike. Rather, he felt good; he had some cereals with milk and fruit to recover and went to lie down in bed. After a few pages of the book he is reading at the moment, he dozed off for half an hour.
Manuel Roca attended University in Mato Rujo. There, he engaged in the study of Nietzsche. Now, he wonders whether the genial philosopher could explain his way of thinking; bring to light the source of it. As fast as night falls upon Mato Rujo, a mixed sense of tiredness and nostalgia turned up in his mind unexpectedly. In a predictable way, last night Manuel Rujo had a dream based on the episode he lived the day before when he was about to fall down. In the oneiric deformation, his bike was riding over a cable which ran across two mountain tops. Underneath the suspended cable hundreds of meters of emptiness that would not permit Manuel Roca any error. Like the famous French high wire artist Philippe Petit that in 1974 high-wire walked between the Twin Towers in New York’s World Trade Centre, Manuel Roca rode the wire back and forth. He spoke to an eagle whose head resembled his friend Frank Lagache who was beside him when Manuel Roca nearly came down. He woke up with a start, in apnoea, soaked wet in his own sweat but relieved to gather that underneath there was not the void but a comfortable bed.