When you’re boxing another man
And you drop your hands down to your knees
And stick out your jaw
And beg them to try to hit you
And when they get all frozen and flustered
And then try really hard to hit you
And you just casually slide out of the way
Making them hit air
And then the next big punch immediately follows
And you just nonchalantly pull your chin back
As they miss it by millimetres
Then
In the blink of an eye
You land a clean counter
they never see coming
But you keep your hand loose in your glove
And instead of knocking them out
You just lightly kiss their jaw with your fist
And then when you glide back out of range
And you look into their eyes
Without the slightest bit of fear
And you know the way your moving also shows no fear
And everything in their eyes
And in their movements
are completely lost
Well,
there's no better feeling than that.
Something about that feels like freedom to me.
The freedom to express myself
in a dance of violence and problem solving.
The freedom to be calm in the chaos and to somehow
make art
out of
it.
The freedom to fly.
And yes,
my story will probably end like Icarus does.
But until then,
I’m going to enjoy soaring through the sky.
-C.H.
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