When the ball gets trapped between the branches of a dried bush, the game doesn’t end. There is preemptive anxiety, then pain as I reach my arm through the branches and grasp the ball. There is pain as I pull my arm out and stinging as I brush the scratched areas before throwing the ball to continue the game. Astride the pain is the unceasing joy of playing the game. Joy is the anesthesia of non-traumatic pain.
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