There’s are times when I feel an almost mystical message from certain scenes in nature.
Like right now, outside my window, a beam of late sun leans flat on the garden, a bright stripe sliced across the middle of the darkness, lifting textures into patterns, sparkly noises of light coming from the plants in it’s path. As the sun lifts the light in it’s decent into shadow, the message changes, a narrative, a mapping of this particular scene, this denouement, cascading code, only breakable as it happens.
And Agassi knows the code, Federer too. As it happens, a match unfolds, a flower of intension, genes, opportunity, nature, mood, crowd (rooting for Agassi).
Federer is so cocky, with good reason. (beautiful too) That makes Agassi the hero, also an advantage. Federer knows that too. Neither can hide. The goal is pure. (and lucrative, as a gold standard should be).
Almost pure will. Especially Agassi. Mystical.