When I ask what he himself thinks about his own dreams, Casper Ruud looks at me with this mixture of

When I ask what he himself thinks about his own dreams, Casper Ruud looks at me with this mixture of
When I ask what he himself thinks about his own dreams, Casper Ruud looks at me with this mixture of
When I ask what he himself thinks about his own dreams, Casper Ruud looks at me with this mixture of
When I ask what he himself thinks about his own dreams, Casper Ruud looks at me with this mixture of

When I ask what he himself thinks about his own dreams, Casper Ruud looks at me with this mixture of well-behaved modesty and self-confidence, and I think he will answer that he does not want to say anything about the future so as not to jinx something good. “I have always dreamed of being a hundred years old,“ he says. “Do not ask me why. And then I imagine standing there one day and being the best in the world and being able to say it.” Again he raises his hands in this rehearsed, imaginary gesture of victory.  He does not say this, but I think we both hear it: I’m the best in the world.  He smiles. “I’m not sure I can do it, though.” He casts a glance over the property and the fjord. “It’s worth a try.” — Jo Nesbø, KonkretPhotos by Jørgen Gomnæs -- source link


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