Catching waves is like flying without wings, or on top of it. Moving faster than nature's waves is playing a game of power. 'It' vs. me. With horse-power, in velocity, it grapes me, it gets me. Up-side down I go. Losing sense of gravity, salt in nose, eyes something hits my skull and I'm hardly breathing air. Pissed-off, bruised on bones, bloody nose and with a fools ambition I go back, jump in the saddle and challenge it, again and again. Sometimes I do manage, when angry enough, I feel my momentum in front of it, shortly I get it back. Eat that-this, f*ck-you! It! I call out while catching the wave. Finally. It's playing the game. With me. Did I get it, really get it or did it just let me in the end? Surfing. I am in love.
