“Few would ever consider describing Lahm as the best player in the world. That is a title that is exclusively the preserve of the likes of Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Luis Suarez and Neymar … It seems unfair, though, to suggest that what Lahm does somehow requires less talent, less ability. To read a game, to have the instinct to understand exactly what is about to happen in three, five, ten seconds into the future: that is a gift. To be able to tune into the subtle rhythm of a game, to perceive the pattern of play, to twist it and contort it just a little to give your side an infinitesimal advantage: that is a gift. To make what you want to happen, happen: that, too, is a gift, and it is a gift Lahm has in abundance.” - ESPN’s Rory Smith
I wish you luck. I don't decide who wins, and whose body gets tossed in the river to rot. But I do enjoy watching.
I just learned about painter John Brosio. Wow.
Here’s his website: http://www.johnbrosio.com
Look, let’s start with some tough love, alright? Ready for this? Here it goes: you two suck at peddling meth. Period.
For all the boldness and initiation he may take during missions, when it comes to intimacy he finds himself losing his footing. There is a dangerous fluidity in his actions, able to skillfully leap from rooftops and, with surgical precision, shove a knife into the thick artery in a man’s throat in one motion. There is conciseness and awareness in how he holds conversations with others, able to hold his own. But his tongue goes thick and his palms sweat whenever The Outsider drawls out compliments and lingers close to his side.
“You’re nervous,” The Outsider points out and Corvo loathes the way he can feel a flush creep up his neck. He has greeted the shrines, before, with confidence and respect. Now he greets the shrines with a certain sense of vulnerability, feeling The Outsider gently curl about it and with a promise to not abuse it.