The little yellow flag finds itself frantically being swerved through air in a stadium that has enough people to function as an independent country. The ball makes it's way down the field as if it has wings. The crowd goes wild over a sporting event that is a novelty to none. The teams once more line up face to face like two boxers before a bout.

"Encroachment over the fifty yard line!" That is the dawn of our futile fortifications, we feel imposed upon or just our guard is let down beyond our comfort. Walls are then built, forged, unnaturally, for we are afraid of being hurt once again. But, unlike in the football movies and games, no ref is available to step in and shield the offense. According to the football definition, encroachment is simply making contact with the opponent before the play starts. Then, why are we so horridly afraid of contact?


We are bitter cowards in the countenance of an unfamiliar identity. Utterly petrified of being the victim of a vicious crime, one in which we haven't even seen the silhouette of. We risk any possible reward by claiming Encroachment. We lose all possible profits, even the wealth of love, all's deep desire thats at our finger tips is denied.