Angelo was drinking whisky, a sip every ten minutes or so, his words coming slowly, carefully picked. Pausing between sentences, watching the response, listening to words answered. "it´s both, it´s a fight and a game." Weighing his words now, I start to understand. Fighting is an adrenaline thing: fear, desperation and the subjective imperative can turn a man into a killing machine. Everyday impatience and itchy dislikes suddenly explode into burning resentment and ferocious aggression. And as a fighter you are weak, vulnerable, quite simply because it means much too much for you. So you need to be someone who doesn´t care, who could be heading anywhere, who anticipates and savors the other´s moves, who takes the game as it is. I cannot know Angelo´s motivation, what he desired in his heart. Yet he spent his time passing on a truth that few know.
RIP Angelo.
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