1st Person
I opened the door of my apartment, and abruptly the world went upside down. This wasn’t to be unexpected, and as I stepped toward the stairs I wobbled and tilted. For a brief second I almost fell against the wall, but with a simple push of my left arm I regained my balance. I’ve never had much trouble doing that, at least so far as I can recall.
I open the glass door of my apartment complex. The night air is cold, and in the parking lot that surrounds the building, there is not a single open space. Despite this, there is no one to see, at least not at that late hour.
After all, the last thing I want to do now, is draw attention to myself.
I continue to walk, following the rectangular curve of the sidewalk until it brings me to a large courtyard, set in-between the three buildings that compose Gainsborough Court. A part of me feels almost embarrassed at what I’m about to do, but that part of me is distant and divorced, and who ever listens to their spouse in that condition?
Nevertheless, I sigh and then take a few subtle steps forward, and before I know it I’ve suddenly taken off running. I know that from the balconies there may be a person or two perched, watching, for my neighbors have come to recognize this peculiar habit of mine.
I jump, at a rate faster than I probably should, forward. I duck my head and angle my shoulder, of which crashes into the ground, sending me into a tumble that springs me back to my feet...
and again I am running. I stop and fall backward, catching myself in an even roll that again, produces me with a small amount of air back onto my feet.
Each success is like a small surprise to me, and I am filled with an exhilarating feeling. I stop and raise my arms in a warding defensive position. It is a half-style between Ba Gua and Chung Do Kwan, but were anybody else to see it they would think me trying to hug them.
I throw several kicks with my right leg, a verticle front kick, rounded off by a side-kick which stepping backward allows me the opportunity to throw another. It’s just air I’m fighting, and hopefully that’s all I’ll ever have to fight again. The world isn’t a safe place though, and I’ve already been that unlucky twice.
Without warning, even to myself, I fall backwards. The world is still slightly off-kilter, but I can ignore this; innebriated enough not to take notice of it. I rolled over my shoulder and landed on my chest. I threw myself upward, and kicking outward with my feet landed square on my back. I wasn’t hurt, but I’m sure it didn’t feel comfortable for the ground.
I kicked my legs back to my head, ready to attempt something I had never succeeded at before. I swung my legs over my head, pushing upward at the same time with my arms. I was jolted into the air by the inertia and force, and before I knew it, stood on the precipice of the balls of my feet and points of my toes. I had done a kip-up.
I stood with amazement at what I had finally done, after years and years of attempting and failing. And I knew I could do it again too, now that I had finally done it once.
I also noticed that the world had gone a haze that I was usually only familiar with in the early morning or late evening. I reached upward, feeling for the frames I knew were not there. I had lost my glasses.
2nd Person
You open the door of your apartment, and abruptly the world went upside down. This wasn’t to be entirely unexpected, and as you stepped toward the stairs you wobble and tilt. For a brief second you almost fall against the wall, but with a simple push of your left arm you regain balance. You’ve never had much trouble doing that, at least so far as you can recall.
You open the glass door of your apartment complex. The night air is cold, and in the parking lot that surrounds the building, there is not a single open space. Despite this, there is no one to be seen, at least not at that late hour.
After all, the last thing you want to do now, is draw attention to yourself.
You continue to walk, following the rectangular curve of the sidewalk until it brings me to a large courtyard, set in-between the three buildings that compose Gainsborough Court. A part of yourself feels almost embarrassed at what you’re about to do, but that part of you is distant and divorced, and who ever listens to their spouse in that condition?
Nevertheless, you sigh and then take a few subtle steps forward, and before you know it have suddenly taken off running. You know that from the balconies there may be a person or two perched, watching, for your neighbors, some of them, have come to recognize this peculiar habit of yours.
You jump, at a rate faster than you probably should, forward. You duck my head and angle your right shoulder, of which crashes into the ground, sending you into a wild, violent-feeling tumble that springs you back to your feet...
...and again you are running. You stop, despite the inertia that tries to force you forward, and fall backward, catching yourself in an even roll that takes advantage of the motion, and again, produces you with a small amount of air back onto Your feet.
Each success is like a small surprise to you, and you’re filled with an exhilarating feeling. I stop and raise my arms in a warding defensive position. It is a half-style between Ba Gua and Chung Do Kwan, but were anybody else to see it they would think you were trying to hug them.
You throw several kicks with your right leg; a verticle front kick, rounded off by a side-kick which stepping backward allows you the opportunity to throw another. It’s just air you’re fighting, and hopefully that’s all you’ll ever have to fight again. The world isn’t a safe place though, and you’ve already been that unlucky twice. The experience of each has been enough to shake you the rest of your life.
Without warning to anyone, even to yourself, you fall backwards. The world is still slightly off-kilter, but you can ignore this; inebriated enough not to take notice of it. You roll over your shoulder again and land on your chest. You throw yourself upward, and kicking outward with your feet you land square on your back. You aren’t hurt, but are certain it didn’t feel comfortable for the ground.
Lying there, the ground is suddenly more firm, more real than you realize, and the possibilities that allows, endless. You arch your legs back over your head, ready to attempt something you have never succeeded at before, but that time, that very moment tells you you must attempt now. You swing your legs over my head, and at the same time push upward with your arms. You’re jolted into the air by the inertia and force, and before you know it, stand on the precipice of the balls of your feet and points of your toes. You have done a kip-up.
You stand with amazement at what you have finally done, after years and years of attempting and failing. And you know you could do it again too, now that you had finally done it once.
You also notice that the world has gone a haze that was usually only familiar with in the early morning or late evening. You reach upward, feeling for the frames you know are not there. You have lost your glasses.
Third Person
Alex opened the door of his apartment, and abruptly the world went upside down. This wasn’t to be unexpected, and as he stepped toward the stairs Alex wobbled and tilted. For a brief second he almost fell against the wall, but with a simple push of his left arm, regained my balance. He’s never had much trouble doing that, at least so far as I can recall.
Alex opened the glass door of his apartment complex. The night air is cold, and in the parking lot that surrounds the building, there is not a single open space. Despite this, there is no one to see, at least not at that late hour.
After all, the last thing Alex want to do now, is draw attention to himself.
Alex continued to walk, following the rectangular curve of the sidewalk until it brings me to a large courtyard, set in-between the three buildings that compose Gainsborough Court. A part of him almost feels embarrassed at what he’s about to do, but that part of him is distant and divorced, and who ever listens to their spouse in that condition?
Nevertheless, Alex sighed and then take a few subtle steps forward, and before he knows it he’s suddenly taken off running. Alex knows that from the balconies there may be a person or two perched, watching, for his neighbors have come to recognize this peculiar habit of mine.
Alex jumps, at a rate faster than he probably should, forward. He ducks his head and angles his shoulder, of which crashes into the ground, sending Alex into a tumble that springs him back to his feet...
and again Alex is running. He stops and fall backward, catching myself in an even roll that again, produces him with a small amount of air back onto my feet.
Each success is like a small surprise to him, and I am filled with an exhilarating feeling. He stops and raises his arms in a warding defensive position. It is a half-style between Ba Gua and Chung Do Kwan, but were anybody else to see it they would think him trying to hug the air before him.
Alex throws several kicks with my right leg, a vertical front kick, rounded off by a side-kick which stepping backward allows him the opportunity to throw another. It’s just air he’s fighting, and hopefully that’s all he’ll ever have to fight again. The world isn’t a safe place though, and he’s already been that unlucky twice.
Without warning, even to himself, Alex fall backwards. The world is still slightly off-kilter, but Alex can ignore this; inebriated enough not to take notice of it. He rolled over his shoulder, landing on his chest. He threw himself upward, and kicking outward with his feet Alex landed square on his back.He wasn’t hurt, but more than certain it didn’t feel comfortable for the ground.
Alex kicked his legs back over his head, ready to attempt something he had never succeeded at before. He swung his legs over his head, pushing upward at the same time with his arms. Alex was jolted into the air by the inertia and force, and before he knew it, and stood on the precipice of the balls of his feet and points of his toes. Alex had done a kip-up.
He stood with amazement at what he had finally done; after years and years of attempting and failing. And Alex knew he could do it again too, now that he had finally done it once.
Alex also noticed that the world had gone a haze that he was usually only familiar with in the early morning or late evening. He reached upward, feeling for the frames he knew with an abysmal sinking in his chest that he knew were not there. He had lost his glasses.
-Alex Borschel
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