Fotbal Infinit (Infinite Football)

Sometimes you savour the sweet conversation effortlessly generated by bizarro dreams. 

The improbability encourages rash exploration the ridiculousness of which augments middle-age.

Or any free-spirited time period wherein which dreams distract distinctly, and sweet nothings or crafty fantasies conjure wayward cogent reckonings.

Everything'd be too serious otherwise, there would be no compassionate touch, assuming the difference between reason and absurdity still maintained a coherent balance.

An unacknowledged coherent balance, the irregularities of sincerest trust, cultivated through fleeting foundations, or mutually presumed ill-favour.

In conversation.

There's an art to this kind of conversation which preserves imaginative youth, and myriad compelling narratives have theoretically been spawned thereafter (Ferris Bueller's, Strange Brew . . . ).

Fotbal Infinit (Infinite Football) examines a champion who's taken things way too far, so caught up in his gripping imagination that he's lost sight of the inherent humour.

It seems like he's taking his idea seriously, far beyond rational realistic applications, but he may just be humorously distressed, and there doesn't seem to be much else to talk about.

An injury suffered in his youth led him to stop playing soccer/football, and his dreams of moving to the U.S. were forgotten after his country joined the EU.

Expecting to find excitement in the years following, he instead wound up in a permanent position lacking bureaucratic fluidity.

As the years past his thrilling fantasy became much more appealing than his daily routine, and began to permeate every discussion integrated into his private life.

Does he take things too far in his reckonings and turn every conversation into an awkward exchange, or is there just nothing else left to talk about, and has he found expeditious refrain?

He finds ways to apply his dream to each and every social interaction, it's a remarkable feat of maladroit dynamism, that revels in novel disjunction. 

I'm not sure if he notices the difference between dream and reality any longer, but he's found a way to spice up his life that's at least individualistically invigorating.

What reality's in fact the most ludicrous is perhaps a pertinent question?

Beyond the public sphere.

Quizzical misgivings.

Discursive implosion.