This story takes place in a time when the chessboard remained a social legend and a board game found space on the tables of rich and poor men, like countless greasy plates or clogged salt boxes. Statures that were needed to run a game
they didn't get lost in the rubbish of their combs and cabbages:
They were cleaned as soon as the dust was lifted from their edges or
loved themselves away Have a local carpenter carve your own set. The
figures, often carried by their own heads over a box,
were undergoing a transformation without aging, just as the chess player, with
becoming aware of the strategist, became an ageless but kind thinker .
The only thing that was disputed was the selection of the colors; If you were allowed to choose a shade, for that one moment you were the only liberal person in the heavily indebted and only inn of the village. The wooden statues that you had to set up yourself represented your own team, a kind of table level that, like the coarse pine forest at home in Kurejka or Saskylach, was uninhabited and hardly managed by the wintered relatives protected from avalanches. Yes, you were completely alone in this area, but without being out of the world, because in every single box on the wooden shelf you could feel the proximity of civilization, even stronger and closer than in the courtyard of the inn - with this confused noise of pitchforks and spade work destroying snow beds on the sandy paths. I'm telling this story tonight as it really happened, but rather as I experienced it myself. The chess game that I based the plot of the
story, the simultaneous sequence, the music, the illustration;
it is one that I had to play myself; out of fear of violating the regular game process of a chess encounter through my
tactical incompetence
I opened up the possibility of a SciSys chess computer.
Of course, often enough I was checkmated by programmed moves
/>been entrusted by all-important flashing lights and ready-made diagrams, but: I understood more and more, with the real
restrictions of this game system - the restriction on figural values,
one Interaction between powerless and powerful game pieces or the
symbolic meaning of a simple board game. In front of me,
on 32 electronically controlled black and white boxes,
I experienced (in interesting variations once again) the forgetting of a
thinking game, the icy empathy with millions of other people />Move pawn, bishop and rook back and forth in and to gamble with a solid
company.

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