It's deceptive, yet eerily seductive. I remember that one day, where I dared to set foot on the Hall of Giants, the basketball court. Not unprepared, I had ceremoniously donned the shoes of victory, the embroidered Nikean swooshes on each shoe propelling me towards the clash with my opponent. The enemy, an older product than me, yet of the same parental blood, approached me to reach the goal and jumped with the vigorous strength of an inspired deity. Glory was his when the ball went through the hoop.
Divine powers are quick to correct excess pride.
Just as Brutus served as the gods' tool to bring the mighty Caesar down, I somehow caused my brother's ankle to collapse on the curb. He crumpled to the ground, along with his short-lived glory. So she didn't help the two tanned, tough-looking basketball players out. If one of them sprains his ankle, that only gives her time to get away safely. Our world is so superficial that it's hard to distinguish televisional fantasy from reality anymore.