Thursday, June 12, 2008

10 000 cheering souls packed into a replica of the Singapore Indoor Stadium.
7 brothers huddled in a penguin-esque ball, in the middle of the floor.

The itchy little vibrating ball of tension in each one grown steadily over the last 4 days, now too large to be handled individually. Beyond itchy, it has grown to become an unbearable unsatisfiable ache. It shuddered like boiling milk, the atmosphere the spoon dipped into it that makes it overflow violently through our faces, our hands, our eyes. We huddled, and hoped harder than we had ever hoped before

then in one consummatory moment the emcee announces, we win! and the tension, contained too long, explodes in the form of screaming jumping and for some, crying.

After which, we retreat in jubilance. The Vs congratulate and hug us, but it is an awkward moment. Their faces contradict their words. There's just too much emotion in the room, it would take an ubermensch to hide it from his countenance. We are tempered by the wretched looks on their faces.

Wrongly so. After all, we do not deserve to be repressed again do we? Not all the tension has been released yet; even the massive supernova cannot liberate all the star's energy in a split second. But we must have consideration for the crestfallen. We cannot celebrate in the same room as the grieving...

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