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Mate
I spent the latter part of last week in Stockholm presenting to members of our board. On the Thursday evening I had time to kill so I wandered the pristine and deserted wide boulevards, past the library and into the Kungliga Humlegården where I sat and read my book for half an hour in the crisp sunshine.
When I became bored of reading the heroic exploits of the SAS rescue mission in Sierra Leone I wandered south west and found myself in a large cobbled area, flanked with tall ornate buildings of burgundy and sand tones. Rows of cherry blossom trees sprinkled the breeze with spiraling pink petals and I sat at a bench beside an eight foot square chess board. Two players were moving wooden pieces each about two feet tall about the board by grasping handles that protruded from the top of each piece.
The black player was a towering Samoan man who had either burst his bottom lip or refused to keep his tongue in his mouth. His limbs were like tree trunks and I was amazed as I watched him slip through the ranks of pieces to make his moves.
May. 4.2004