Crash concretely

Sembawang, 45km. How ironic. I've toured with my bicycle overseas for tens of thousands of km. Climbed up mountains and rolled down so fast, my ears popped. Crossed rivers, dodged traffic. All without bloodshed.

Today, blood flows from three holes beside my knee, the result of grass which seems to be the same height as a concrete platform. But seeing is deceiving; feeling is not. It's not short grass and low concrete, but high grass (that flattens) and high concrete. Front wheel crashes to a halt. Part of me lands on grass, leg lands on broken concrete and opens up.

I squirt water on my wounds to wash it and brush off wet grass from my body. My bicycle seems ok. So I keep cycling. I look down on my leg. Blood is flowing. Go with the flow ...