Contemplating the perfect blue dive – complete with pike, tuck, twist and whatever else would make it fancy – from the top of the perfect blue building. Look at it! Stark and alone like the first tombstone in a newly dedicated graveyard. The clouds float right through it on a summer day. They think those chicks are crazy, up and down the stairwell nine times. Maybe they are. Why make it hard? I’m going to ride the elevator to the roof garden and take the beautiful way down. I’ll show them the meaning of a perfect rip entry.



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