Icon 17 Line Markov Chain

 

Icon 14 Character Random Number Generator

 

Icon Simple Two Joint IK

 

Icon Generating Icons with Pixel Sorting

 

Icon Neural Network Ambient Occlusion

 

Icon Three Short Stories about the East Coast Main Line

 

Icon The New Alphabet

 

Icon "The Color Munifni Exists"

 

Icon A Deep Learning Framework For Character Motion Synthesis and Editing

 

Icon The Halting Problem and The Moral Arbitrator

 

Icon The Witness

 

Icon Four Seasons Crisp Omelette

 

Icon At the Bottom of the Elevator

 

Icon Tracing Functions in Python

 

Icon Still Things and Moving Things

 

Icon water.cpp

 

Icon Making Poetry in Piet

 

Icon Learning Motion Manifolds with Convolutional Autoencoders

 

Icon Learning an Inverse Rig Mapping for Character Animation

 

Icon Infinity Doesn't Exist

 

Icon Polyconf

 

Icon Raleigh

 

Icon The Skagerrak

 

Icon Printing a Stack Trace with MinGW

 

Icon The Border Pines

 

Icon You could have invented Parser Combinators

 

Icon Ready for the Fight

 

Icon Earthbound

 

Icon Turing Drawings

 

Icon Lost Child Announcement

 

Icon Shelter

 

Icon Data Science, how hard can it be?

 

Icon Denki Furo

 

Icon In Defence of the Unitype

 

Icon Maya Velocity Node

 

Icon Sandy Denny

 

Icon What type of Machine is the C Preprocessor?

 

Icon Which AI is more human?

 

Icon Gone Home

 

Icon Thoughts on Japan

 

Icon Can Computers Think?

 

Icon Counting Sheep & Infinity

 

Icon How Nature Builds Computers

 

Icon Painkillers

 

Icon Correct Box Sphere Intersection

 

Icon Avoiding Shader Conditionals

 

Icon Writing Portable OpenGL

 

Icon The Only Cable Car in Ireland

 

Icon Is the C Preprocessor Turing Complete?

 

Icon The aesthetics of code

 

Icon Issues with SDL on iOS and Android

 

Icon How I learned to stop worrying and love statistics

 

Icon PyMark

 

Icon AutoC Tools

 

Icon Scripting xNormal with Python

 

Icon Six Myths About Ray Tracing

 

Icon The Web Giants Will Fall

 

Icon PyAutoC

 

Icon The Pirate Song

 

Icon Dear Esther

 

Icon Unsharp Anti Aliasing

 

Icon The First Boy

 

Icon Parallel programming isn't hard, optimisation is.

 

Icon Skyrim

 

Icon Recognizing a language is solving a problem

 

Icon Could an animal learn to program?

 

Icon RAGE

 

Icon Pure Depth SSAO

 

Icon Synchronized in Python

 

Icon 3d Printing

 

Icon Real Time Graphics is Virtual Reality

 

Icon Painting Style Renderer

 

Icon A very hard problem

 

Icon Indie Development vs Modding

 

Icon Corange

 

Icon 3ds Max PLY Exporter

 

Icon A Case for the Technical Artist

 

Icon Enums

 

Icon Scorpions have won evolution

 

Icon Dirt and Ashes

 

Icon Lazy Python

 

Icon Subdivision Modelling

 

Icon The Owl

 

Icon Mouse Traps

 

Icon Updated Art Reel

 

Icon Tech Reel

 

Icon Graphics Aren't the Enemy

 

Icon On Being A Games Artist

 

Icon The Bluebird

 

Icon Everything2

 

Icon Duck Engine

 

Icon Boarding Preview

 

Icon Sailing Preview

 

Icon Exodus Village Flyover

 

Icon Art Reel

 

Icon LOL I DREW THIS DRAGON

 

Icon One Cat Just Leads To Another

Raleigh

Created on May 15, 2015, 11:15 a.m.

A boy at university called William got me into cycling - although really it could have been anything. If he'd joined the chess society I would have signed up. But thankfully it was cycling he was into and after a short, fumbled conversation he thought I was into it too. He said he'd sort me out with a bike, and he found an old Raleigh in a dusty bike shop squeezed between a supermarket and a bathroom store. The bike had a blue frame with handle bars wrapped in tan-coloured leather and gears on the end. I fell in love with it immediately. It was the first thing I owned that I had truly valued since I'd moved away from home. I couldn't wait to get out into the countryside on it.

I began to cycle to university every morning with William. I wasn't a very confident girl but I felt safe behind him. I watched as he darted between the old buildings, ran over the cobbled streets, and I tried to emulate as best as I could. My favourite part of the ride was a long hill just outside of the university quarter. We'd bomb down that hill at insane speeds, and I'd lift my feet off the pedals, pretending I was flying, just like a child. The wind roared in my ears and I watched William, his shirt fluttering in front.

Perhaps it was the childishness of it all, but I started playing a little game every morning as we descended the hill. I would whisper things to myself - about the university, friends, William. The wind was so loud I knew the secrets couldn't be heard by the rest world. And then the gradient would even out and the wind would calm, and I would fall silent as we rolled into the university quarter.

Each morning I played the game, while the long summer slowly became autumn, and the brown leaves started to accumulate on the road. It felt so good to be spilling all of these thoughts into the morning air, feeling them whipped away and shredded; dispersed in the atmosphere like flocks of birds. And each morning I would look at William longingly as we rode together and he gazed steadily ahead, his feet fixed on the pedals. I wondered what he was hearing - what he was seeing.

One morning I arrived outside the halls but there was another girl next to William, perched on her bike. She was a tall girl, with short blonde hair, and she was wearing a brown vintage jacket. I recognized her vaguely as one of William's friends - a French girl called Florence. I'd seen her in one of the student plays William had acted in.

She looked at me with vague disinterest and we shuffled out onto the road and rolled down the hill. Florence pulled alongside William and I remained behind. I concentrated on the wet autumn leaves that lined the road, almost certain I would fall and injury myself badly if I ran over some of them and my bike tyres slipped.

More of William's friends began to join us on the ride. Like Florence, they were mainly actors - exuberating confidence and stories, jostling for their position in the peloton that had evolved around him. Eventually it became too much for me. I began to take the bus instead, and told William I was nervous about the wet leaves. He said he understood.

I sat quietly on that little shuttle bus as it rumbled into town. I had a little corner where I could sit in peace, read my book, and watch people as they got on the bus. The glass gently shook and rattled with the engine - tenderly bumping me awake.

One morning William got on the bus. He walked over to my corner sheepishly and sat down next to me. He asked if I was coming on the long ride in the countryside with everyone on Wednesday. I'd heard nothing about it - it must have been organised by Florence and her friends.

"Unfortunately I've got to study," I replied.

"That's a shame. The weather forecast is great. Everyone is going to be there."

The bus bumped into town and I looked out of the window. It went slowly down the hill. It felt like the world was coming to a standstill. I was going to be left on this bus when it stopped; a statue for future alien civilisations to find. I thought some more about the ride - if everyone was going to be away on Wednesday it would mean I would have the hill to myself. Not even William would be there. I wanted to go down one more time - fast.

It was a cold, bright morning that Wednesday. The trees had almost been entirely stripped of leaves by the winter, and on the ground they had decayed in the rain. The road was solid and damp. I waited at the top of the hill, watching the branches shake in the breeze, and looking over what was visible of the university quarter below. I pushed off, starting to roll forward, when I heard a shout from behind me. I looked around to see William rocketing toward me with a big grin on his face. He was alone, and he waved at me as he rushed by, signalling for me to join him down the hill.

I pedalled hard, just catching him as the gradient steepened. We both shot down the hill. Air tore at my limbs. I was silent with excitement and joy. I wanted to fill myself with what was happening, and everything in the world at that moment, from the grass by the roadside to the birds in the sky. It was in that quiet that I thought I heard the faint whispering of a boy's voice on the wind.

github twitter rss