4AM, June 21st. The light began slowly at 3:30 to the east. So gradual, that at first it was unclear if the day was coming or I was hallucinating. Gradually it took hold until it was undeniable. I had ridden mostly solo from our rest stop curated by Dustin and his family. The rest of our 12 person group was either ahead of me, splintered, scattered, or home by now via simpler directions. The shortest night didn’t take long at all — so much easier than previous rides of this duration. The day was returning. Such a difficult ride, made so much more difficult by the intense heat and unfavorable winds we were subjected to. But despite all of that, we pushed through, made it home, and certainly saying good night to yet another solstice ride. * He lit a cigarette and sat on the bench beneath the blossoming orange tree. 'When I have a longing for something myself he said, 'do you know what I do? I cram myself chockful of it, and so I get rid of it and don't think about it any longer. Or, if I do, it makes me retch. Once when I was a kid - this'll show you - I was mad on cherries. I had no money, so I couldn't buy many at a time, and when I'd eaten all I could buy I still wanted more. Day and night I thought of nothing but cherries. I foamed at the mouth; it was torture! But one day I got mad, or ashamed, I don't know which. Anyway, I just felt cherries were doing what they liked with me and it was ludicrous. So what did I do? I got up one night, searched my father's pockets and found a silver mejidie and pinched it. I was up early the next morning, went to a market-gardener and bought a basket o' cherries. I settled down in a ditch and began eating. I stuffed and stuffed till I was all swollen out. My stomach began to ache and I was sick. Yes, boss, I was thoroughly sick, and from that day to this I've never wanted a cherry. I couldn't bear the sight of them. I was saved. I could say to any cherry: I don't need you any more. And I did the same thing later with wine and tobacco. I still drink and smoke, but at any second, if I want to, whoop! I can cut it out. I'm not ruled by passion. It's the same with my country. I thought too much about it, so I stuffed myself up to the neck with it, spewed it up, and it's never troubled me since.' 'What about women?' I asked. 'Their turn will come, damn them! It'll come! When I'm about seventy!' He thought for a moment, and it seemed too imminent. 'Eighty,' he said, correcting himself. 'That makes you laugh, boss, I can see, but you needn't. That's how men free themselves! Listen to me; there's no other way except by stuffing themselves till they burst. Not by turning ascetic. How do you expect to get the better of a devil, boss, if you don't turn into a devil-and-a-half yourself?'