Prosas & Poemas

I Long for Freedom

To run.
To swim.
To travel.

Catching that midnight train and leave everything behind. I don't know where it will take me only that I long for its departure.

Getting back in the court. Grab the ball. Feel the exhileration of speed. Feel the desperation of a goal. Feel the strength of our union. I long for the thrill. The counter attack. Feeling the ball just falling in my hands. The automatic step count. The jump. Pulling against gravity as high as I can. The goal approaching. The focus. The full view of the goalie attempting to guess my mind. The wind and the movement. My hand goes up. My arm pulls back. And then, like a catapult releasing its torpedo against the sieged city, I throw it. Top right corner. The sound of the bar as the ball scrapes by it. The sound of the net stretching against the ball's speed. The ref whistles. It's in. It's a goal. And the stadium screams it. Oh! That feel! "What's so fun about a bunch of dudes running after a ball for others amusement?" What others amusement?! It's for us, the players. Our freedom is that court. That game. The match. Where each second is a different moment. Where each minute brings the stress of a long week of practicing, studying, working... where each step is as if we were meant to do it. Where there are no ifs or what nots. Only me, my teammates and the other team. Where our union shows, our knowledge of maths, history, sciences... is reduced to our instinct to fight back and be better and give our best in there. There aint no better feeling than that of giving your all for the sake of the team.

I wake inside the train and leave. Whatever station I'm at it doesn't matter. I have arrived at where I want to be. I have arrived and now I am going to live.

For what I want is to be free!