
It was sunny. And then , it was not sunny anymore. The clear skies got covered quickly, like a stain of coffee that travels through paper or fabric. Fat droplets came down.
Fuck.
It was blizzard. Ice pieces fell into the ground.
Take shelter under one of those awnings. Take the phone out.
“Where are you?”
At the tennis court. Seemed obvious.
How did I put myself in this situation.
So tennis is a little bit like life. A ball goes on and off and while not beingin total control, still happens.
And it requires skill, while not being definitory. Is led to chance, while not being gambling. It has a rhythm, like a song popping on and off.
The indie elegance of the geometric satire folds in the middle with a silly ti-ny tiny net that creates more issues than it seems.
A game of being good enough to voley ball with one another, while still being able to take the piss and somehow create a challenge .
A video of him going at on it.
“I’m playing with a friend, you want to come and see?”
My curious nature just answered yes. Back from work, I took a shortcut to the shiny shorts and strong legs.
And the rhythmic retaliation of the balls that endlessly spiral in asymetric orbits.
We have put a Bluetooth speaker out. We are blasting techno at the park while two humans play tennis and other writes on their phone.
A thing that caught my attention was the noises that the body produces.
Momentum; when achieved correctly, the great tennis act of enticing the opponent builds an enchantment, luring them into a trap. Like in a conversation, you make believe that something is going on, when in reality, you somehow want to trick and mislead, not by making them fail, but by forging the illusion that they are going to be effective in their navigation, while simultaneously providing the perfect set up for failure.
You are not necessarily being an asshole or a full blown cunt. You are, in the game of extending your own energy to understand yourself better, also making the other one live up to the trial.
A challenge, nevertheless.