Is Magic Not Enough To Live For?

“nothing's Impossible,” Poppet Responds. She Smiles At Him And Jumps, Her Red Hair Trailing Out Behind Her As She Falls.

The Most Difficult Thing To Read Is Time. Maybe Because It Changes So Many Things.

They Are Enthusiasts, Devotees. Addicts. Something About The Circus Stirs Their Souls, And They Ache For It When It Is Absent. They Seek Each Other Out, These People Of Such Specific Like Mind. They Tell Of How They Found The Circus, How Those First Few Steps Were Like Magic. Like Stepping Into A Fairy Tale Under A Curtain Of Stars… When They Depart, They Shake Hands And Embrace Like Old Friends, Even If They Have Only Just Met, And As They Go Their Separate Ways They Feel Less Alone Than They Had Before.

And There Are Never Really Endings, Happy Or Otherwise. Things Keep Going On, They Overlap And Blur, Your Story Is Part Of Your Sister's Story Is Part Of Many Other Stories, And There Is No Telling Where Any Of Them May Lead.

I Have Had Affairs That Lasted Decades And Others That Lasted For Hours. I Have Loved Princesses And Peasants. And I Suppose They Loved Me, Each In Their Way.