Exhibited

I think I got pimples just from walking through the food pavilion. Everything was fried, the air was fried.

Yet the air was also sweet with new friends, colourful lights, and the carnival which reminded me of the Fire Boy's chapter of a dear story I nearly forgot. Indistinguishable sounds and laughs and conversations and scraping of equipment and sound effects came from every direction. You could feel the excitement without even touching any of the games, and imagine the quiet of the people on the Ferris wheel and lift. I imagined putting out the streams of foggy white night that cut into the dark sky, and watched birds fly by just to know they made it through safely.

The Cirque D'Opera show felt like a more intimate Cirque Du Soleil with a love story atop a valet black background sprinkled with stars that faded in and out in different patterns. The piano music twinkled like a music box with all the dreamy depth of an illuminated sea bed, and the opera singer sang his heart out to the audience at side stage as the acrobatic lovers acted out their small story.

A best friend and I felt the fold of intricate popup cards and examined stones and minerals with all the wonder we had as children. Her eyes were wide and energetic like a squirrel, but she was far more composed.

Now home, my hands are warm and crickets chirp in a choir of their own out the window on this cool summer night.