In my hostel days, the only rubber we cared about was on the *tyres* of the bike we’d use to fetch the ball when someone smashed it over the wall. Our paddle was a cheap, warped thing from the market, and our main worry was the *damp*—the ball wouldn’t bounce on a rainy afternoon, forget fancy spins. All this talk of VOC glue sounds like city-people problems. My game was built on broken floor tiles and waiting for the *sngi* to dry the courtyard.
#javelin#throws
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