You only live twice
It was six weeks ago. A long time in dog years. I had been told a report was on its way most weeks since then, but to no avail. At this point I think I must assume that we'll never get the chance to see it. If it eventually comes, it will be a joyous occasion, but perhaps this story should not be leaved to fate. So I'll try to tell it myself instead. The mind's eye is foggy, but this is the story as I remember it. Rashomon style. The bandit testifies. A solid breakfast is the cornerstone of any healthy tournament. I came back from a long vacation that week, and the circadian rhythm was still out of joint. Pick up five hours that night, six that one, and four and a half the next. By Friday, the body was sluggish. But excitement was abound, and I mise well run on fumes. It would be my first time playing old school in Stockholm. Hell, the first time playing Magic at all in the Swedish capital. Stockholmers and Gothenburgers have a history of love/hate relationships