I am reading The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. I don’t want it to end. It is one of those magical books that so completely creates its own particular world that I am scared I won’t be able to keep the door open once it’s gone. There is a strange deliciousness, at the moment, in the lingering impression of another world that is left each time I put the book down and, then, in the switching back into focus when I get to pick it up again.
It probably helps that I am bewitched by circuses, as it is.
On Friday night we went to the new Boom and Bang Circus at the Hippodrome. There were fire eaters and acrobats and hula hoopers and cabaret performers and it started at midnight, around the time when the world gets a little stranger because it’s not as familiar as the day.
There is something about circus that makes me feel like a child again. Something about the constant surprising and the consequent amazement that keeps me coming back for more. There is also something darker in there that is equally alluring. Something in the otherness, in the moves beyond what we assume to be possible and the “how the hell did they do that”.
I like things that make you see the world differently. I also like things that challenge where the boundaries are. I guess one of the many benefits of art is it lets you explore those places.