In deconstructing the soccer pitch, I would like to consider the phenomenon of borders, to find their place, to check their factuality. Does paint change the field or does it alter our perception of the field, giving it new characteristics and therefore interpretations, while leaving the grass itself as grass?

In a broader sense, this also questions my perception of self as a limited person. Where does that boundary between myself and otherness lie, between me and the world? Does it exist or, perhaps, does it only seem to, being playfully conditional?
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