seeing mister this morning wanting to enter the tennis court, but not seeing the ball, i think about the sweet will to play that stays with us when we age. the will to power is such a different game, as you know. power and madness. i think, perforce, about that too. in truth, the will to power inspires my will to play. oh the sweetness of an old dog playing. not having a concept of age, just noting the body change, the eyes dimming, the bones creaking, the desire ever the same.

so we find three balls and i throw them close so he can find them. he holds two in his mouth. drops them when a friend comes along and pets him. pees on one ball and we laugh. once he peed on my foot when i was talking and i wondered if he was signalling me. i think this time is accidental. he picks up the pee ball, a minute later drops it for the one i have in my hand. he stuffs two in and looks at me sidelong, starting the old game of catch me, catch me, can you, you can't, catch me again.