According to the Bicycle coalition, Philadelphia has 205 miles of bike lanes. From Old City to the Art Museum, from Columbus Blvd to Grey's Ferry, along the Schuylkill River and through the heart of the city, pumping city dwellers to and from work and school. You could follow these veins of transport till exhaustion and get lost in the hustle and bustle of the infagitable energy of the city.

But as I saunter aimlessly through Fairmount on my battered Schwinn, I am in search of a little winter solace; A place to wonder and think, a place to be sad and lonely. Trickling like debris in a river floating towards the ocean I spilled onto Spring Garden Street heading east towards the Delaware. Swerving through red lights and the busy streets in front of the Community College; students bunched in chilled packs as they hustle out of class towards home or the bar, I speed over Broad street and meander towards Northern Liberties. Right onto 6th street, I follow the swell of traffic towards my goal destination.

Riding to the top of the Ben Franklin Bridge is not necessarily the easiest of tasks, the disjointed sidewalk giving shocks of vibration at regular intervals as I dig my feet into the pedals and climb persistently to the top without stopping, even though I find myself trapped in an awkwardly heavy gear. There is certainly no place in the city like the tip of the Ben Franklin Bridge, no place more beautiful to gain a birds eye view of the Delaware, Camden Yards and Penn's landing. But it is also hauntingly lonely, walkers rarely venture there, especially in the winter, and cars speed by below without so much as a glance. The freezing wind, unmolested by the city landscape has an unfiltered chill that nearly takes my breath away.

I am alone...I suppose I have been for quiet some time, however being up here tonight seems to overwhelm me with a hopeless feeling that I can't seem to shake. I am alone because I suppose, subconsciously, I choose to be. I find it increasingly hard to relate to people these days. Thoreau once said "I believe men are generally still afraid of the dark" and I'm sad to admit that I am one of those hopeless lot. When I am alone I am idle and destructive. Huddled against the frigid breeze, I guess I'm hoping to find a little poetic solitude, but tonight, the only thing I'm feeling is bitter cold and a want to escape.