At the time of this writing and unable to go and check on the spot, I cannot exclude that a Zadist is still perched in some pubescent oak of. Theoretically they all left, and one of them had a very bad fall. But who knows? The oak grove may not have made its last militant.
I am applying for it because, if necessary, its know-how could soon prove to be very useful to many people, in a haven of a different kind: the Eaux-Vives park. The very one where the Master must deploy his art in three weeks, before our loving eyes. I’m talking of course about, the Geneva Open, and the clay court of the central, which is waiting, right there, behind closed doors but close to, to be trampled by Him.