This shot gives away my obsession with these letter-boxes here as well as my penchant for monochrome. If I have enough photos of them by the time I leave, I might even try to put a series together. They seem to have much character and a timeless quality. I wouldn't like to imagine opening them to find adverts, flyers, fashion magazines and suchlike, though it may be true in most cases.

As soon as I stepped out today, it started raining. Rainy winters can be sad and for a moment I thought I would have to take a u-turn since the sky in the direction I was headed was rapidly growing darker. But staying indoors wasn't an enticing prospect, so I persisted. After an hour of riding I was out in the country, amid picturesque farms and farmhouses right out of the story-books. There were horses grazing, slow windmills and wind-vanes twirling and an overwhelming silence. What is most endearing about the landscape here is how gracefully it rises and falls. Riding under the cold rain wasn't as challenging as I thought because by the time it started raining heavily, the climbs had already warmed me up. But when I restarted after a pause, I could feel the cold seeping into my finger-tips and I had to blow warm air upon them a bit.

A lot of cars today were carrying Christmas trees and a few people were out running despite the weather. As I stood at the parking lot of a local church right beside an old graveyard, the sounds of me munching the fruits and chips must have been too loud. Found a quaint deli later to spend some time in and grab a small bite. There were two distinct things I felt quite strongly while riding today, both of which are illogical. When I'm on the bike, I don't feel I am the one who is riding. I feel I am the one out there just observing the scenery, while the bike moves automatically. And whichever way I go, I feel I encounter far more downhill slopes than climbs. Even when I turn back on the same road.

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