Before its gutting by opportunistic scavengers, this bike was useful and wanted. It had a drivetrain and wheels and it was free.

But the bicycle exists in a hostile world, and at some point it became necessary for it to seek security. Unfortunately for the bicycle, it was not true security; only the illusion of such. And not so temporary.

While technically the bicycle remains, it is only bones. And they are not secured so much as shackled.

This bicycle did emerge victorious against the attack of the desperate: the screwdriver. But it was no match for the other forces which otherwise eroded its worth and dignity.

A captive of its own short-sightedness, it bears a stamp of shame and lies naked beside refuse in an indifferent universe.