The ball could easily convince itself that it gave itself the impulse.
Especially at the start, when it quickly gains speed and height.
“I pushed off with all my strength from that useless bat and took flight!” the ball would tell the birds and anyone else willing to listen to its nonsense.
Reaching the flat peak of its trajectory, the ball would begin to feel a growing unease. “I’m just tired and want to lie down on the ground,” it would keep lying to itself to the very end.
Arrogance would block any new information from entering its head:
What was the intention of the bat that struck it so painfully?
What did the one holding the bat actually want?
For what purpose was this whole flight set in motion?
What was the meaning of the Game that was impossible without the ball?
Sincerely yours,
-Alexander
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