On chess.

There is a certain conspiracy when two minds fuck each other. There are unspoken truths that peruse the mind’s periphery. Seduction is no longer a game of hide and seek, but a game of chess; the pawns meticulously lined up in plain sight. White always makes the first move, but in the long run the board turns to grey, and that first move becomes coincidental, trivial even.

Aggression has never been part of chess. The key is patience and a clarity of mind that is essential in anticipation of the opponent’s next move. One must understand that all pawns are equally important. The amateur will always disregard and underappreciate the seemingly small move and assume it was a knee-jerk reaction, an impulse borne out of haste and passion.

I’ve always found it fascinating that the King, whose well-being defines the game, is handicapped and dependent on his subordinates. He never picks up a sword. Instead, he allows the Queen to be extra flexible so that she may guard him better. And yet, if the battle is lost, it is he who falls, both literally and metaphorically, while she remains standing, unapologetic, and some may even argue relieved, for she can now rule as she pleases.

Within us we have both a king and a queen. What most do not realize, however, is that we also have the rest of the army. The general, the queen, and the tower are as much part of who we are, as is the lowly pawn. For two minds to truly fuck each other, all pawns must be used; for the weak and the strong in unison make for a much more coherent game, not to mention more interesting.

If I have been too evasive with this great metaphor, let me make things more clear. The king is our ego: slow moving, full of himself and under the impression that he controls everything. The best chess players in the world are said to have entire games inside their heads, having memorised and learned from the best of their predecessors. When they actually play, they are not even there. They operate on several different parallel planes, anticipating numerous different moves, and are ready to react to each one accordingly.

The goal is not really the king, though. No one cares about him. The target is the person sitting opposite you. That is who you’re trying to trick, surpass, and ultimately beat. The king is not even your reward. He is merely your blade; the slight curl at the corner of your lip. 

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