The Performance

I went to watch a circus show with L. It was in Central London. Inside an inverted purple cow. I really did not expect anything deep to come out of a place near London Eye - I don't know why. Perhaps it is very touristy and one does not really need to do much to please a tourist.

L was with G. She is 60 years old grandmother and is a circus artist herself.

The performance was inspiration. Poetic. A life dedicated to a single objective. A bid to be only recognized by a performance and lose every other identity.

There were 5 of them. 2 boys and 3 girls. They did impossibly painful acts with an intent to entertain. 

The show replicates the life.

Life would be pain, but it could be worth it if it is entertainment to others. Really put on a good show.

There was this one particular move where the one girl stood on the shoulders of another one, and they started inclining forward as if they will eventually hit the floor. The girl on top made the perfect landing. 

I thought I need to learn that. To land perfectly in face of instability.

I was so overtaken by this life lessons, I wanted to cry. But then I realized that they did not want me to cry. They wanted me to enjoy the show. It was kind of a role reversal where I became the performer and they became the audience. And, I started to enjoy the show without over analysis.

I need to write about L.