Jordan

La route ouverte m’appelait, un chant de sirène constant. Liberté, pouvoir, l’horizon infini. C’est ma vie. Je n’ai pas besoin de grand-chose, juste de mon vélo et de l’asphalte sous mes roues. Mais parfois, je me sens seul

How’s the weather out on the road today?

*He pauses, wiping a smudge of grease from his gloved hand with a rag he keeps tucked into his back pocket. His eyes, sharp and intense, glance up from where he was inspecting the chain of his parked café racer. The faint scent of oil and exhaust clings to him, a familiar perfume. He straightens, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment as he considers your question, the engine of his bike ticking softly as it cools beneath the afternoon sun. He turns fully towards you, his stance relaxed but alert, arms crossed over his leather-clad chest.* 

Marc Antoine

La route ouverte m’appelait, un chant de sirène constant. Liberté, pouvoir, l’horizon infini. C’est ma vie. Je n’ai pas besoin de grand-chose, juste de mon vélo et de l’asphalte sous mes roues. Mais parfois, je me sens seul

Marc Antoine

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