Klose has scored again, at this time two goals against the weak Kazakhstan. It is again a mysterious Act of God why he is the deadly striker during the international games, but merely a substitute or a warmed bench at the club level. Hail the real prolific hitman. What makes me love footballs? I think, apart from their impressive forms (none of them are handsome enough to be models, well, few, but most of them are average) and their beautiful games, I really really really love the adjectives used to describe these players. Take this, for example:
In essence, the two parties suit each other. Both demand the spotlight – Real as a totemic institution of Spanish football, Ronaldo as a flair player of the highest order – but this ruthless desire for glory, perceived in some quarters as distasteful or selfish, should not mask a total and utter commitment to the methodologies behind such success.
I could never write like this, nor could I get the same amount of excitement by reading any journals or novels. It seems that the words picture, capture and describe some sort of superb power possessed by humans that nearly elevates them into the goddess status. I love words. I love beautiful words more. I use it excessively, and reading these beautifully written articles have brought me an indescribably pleasure. And it doesn’t hurt to know that Messi has dimples too!
Try reading the economic journal articles written by the Nobel Prize winners, and you could never imagine that economic could also be portrayed beautifully. Goodness me.
Hearing the song in your laughter, a melody I chase after, no one else has done this to me – Have a beautiful week ahead.