Ladri di biciclette (1948)

I sometimes have nightmares where one of my bikes is stolen. Often I leave it out of sight for a second; other times I lock it up somewhere dodgy where┬áit sticks out like a sore thumb. The worst thing in each case is that feeling that I’ve let myself down. It may be next to impossible to find the thief but certainly isn’t possible to escape yourself. Continue reading