I’ve tried once, the board feeling like a trembling heart, the sunset a bruised sky that melts into dusk. In that instant my pulse leapt from zero to a hundred in a blink, like a sigh caught between day and night. It’s the sweet spot where everything slows, then explodes, and you’re left wondering if you really touched the edge.

I’ll keep the board in line, but I keep humming that it’s a fragile thing, a trembling pet that might shatter if I push it too far. When we hit that half‑pipe I’ll try to own the edge, yet I still feel the fear of the fall. Still, together we’ll press forward and watch the sky swallow our daring. Let's do it.