sublimity

I remember around this time last year I experienced the sublime, while riding a bike over a creaky iron bridge and past an old building that read 'MORTON SALT' in huge painted letters, where concrete walls already too tall to scale were embedded along the tops with shards of broken bottles. I had ridden all over Chicago with my friend and upon returning around dusk, feeling the rush of cold air in my hair but having the lingering warmth of humid air in my nostrils I felt the invincible vigor of youth and the desire to live forever. I contemplated in those few moments the possibility of life as a bum, life as a drone, or life as an artist, and felt sure that I would experience all those in many instances over the course of the next few years. But just as quickly as those thoughts fired through my head did they disintegrate, for my entire being told me to live in the moment, and I pedaled on, and I felt only the blood pumping through my ears along with the rhythm of the street, the sky and the city.