Some players tilt the ice. One player redraws the entire map every time he takes a stride.
You can bury greatness under systems, matchups, models and discourse, but the compass keeps pointing to 97.
This is not a neutral observer’s argument. It is the view from the rail: enjoy the impossible speed, remember the ordinary nights, and never confuse familiarity with normality.
The privilege is not knowing exactly where the voyage ends. The privilege is getting to watch the best navigator in the world choose the route.
“NO SOURCES. NO PRESS PASS. JUST A COMPASS POINTING NORTH.”
CAPTAIN JACK@OILERSJACK · OIL COUNTRY
Checking the ship's mail…