Fencing and beauty

I am done with all my lessons. Kids are all on platform fencing amongst each other and suddenly an idea crosses my mind. I take my ipod earphones from my backpack and i sit down. I isolate myself from all the outside noises with “Under pressure”, Queen; the show gets started.

Wherever i turn i see assaults perfectly following the rhythm of the music. The athletes, unaware dancers of my personal celebration of the beauty of their moves, probably don’t realize what rather strikes me like a ravishing revelation: fencing is beautiful. And i am not talking about the beauty that everyone sees in their own sport, or the love we feel for an environment we have spent a lot of time in. No. I am simply talking about an absolute aesthetic beauty. A beauty that doesn’t need an hyperbole in order to be described or sing. The same beauty i can possibly find in the Parthenon’s and Colosseum’s perfect proportions, i find it in the perfect syncronization of two athletes trying to steal time from each other, in order to find that smallest chink to perfectly enter.

The perfection i see in a shield and in its reaction, its illusory semplicity gives me emotions because of the elegance and the strenght which simultaneously contains. I am so used to look for the final result that i had almost forgotten to stop and admire the poetry that lies behind an assault, the story that it conceals. A tale of actions and reactions, in a constant dialogue; which is why they talk about fencing sentence. The music keeps going, and Freddy Mercury’s voice makes me shiver when one of his acute perfectly coincides with a fleche attacked right to the target, in which the unconditional confidence of the fencer in an apparently desperate gesture, a dive towards the enemy, without any possibility of rescue, reminds me of some statues’ plasticity, still in millenial poses, in the moment of maximum tension and passion.

I can’t help it but smile, touched, while the last notes of the song echo in my head. I almost want to play the song again, but it’s enough for today. I turn everything off. Curtains closed. Or at least i believe so. The gaze has now changed. I don’t need music; i now realize that even without it i can see the charm in every gesture, in every movement. Wherever i turn around, whichever assault i look at, i can find harmony and perfection, exploding around me. So i thank the fencing God, who, once again, has showed me the extraordinary beauty of this perfection.

 

 

 

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