‘Soup that was too cold, seven years ago now; an old game lost to an up-and-coming youth champion with a completely different opening, but with exactly the same brand of chewy caramels beside the board; a botched perpetual motion machine you saw somewhere. Six new things every minute, to say nothing of the conversations with other players during the game that sometimes actually have subjects.’
Tim Krabbé, The Rider (London: Bloomsbury 2002), p.35
