So. A football match definitely happened. This much at least we can be sure of. I have a lanyard, a programme and a set of cryogenically frozen fingers to verify that fact. Other people were here too, I think. I can sort of remember noises. Vague rasping noises. Disappointed noises. The noise you make when you’ve paid £97 to watch Federico Gatti make back-passes.
But already the actual memories of the event are beginning to evaporate, like a quick-drying paint, like the last thing you see before you go under general anaesthetic. Did Emiliano Martínez do something? Was Alessandro Del Piero on the pitch at some point? Hang on, it’s going blurry. Can no longer feel legs. Can no longer feel anything. Just floating. Orbs through space. Still floating. So nice here. So nice.
