Days are passing by like acrobats on time-traveling trapezes...
One morning, I wake up to brightness glancing off my eyelids: a circus spotlight.... murmured voices... announcing the next act.....
and open my eyes to find myself surrounded by surgeons on an operating table.
The surgeons in their long white coats and masks, their latex gloves and bizarre metal instruments...
They are clowns, of course. I can see them truly now, spinning round the ring on miniature BMWs, performing farce operations- and the fans, laughing as bloody paint splatters the stands...
I look down the table, fascinated by the sheer amount of red.
Isn't my blood supposed to be a different color?
This must not be mine, then.
A doctor hands me something, wrapped in gauzy cloth.
It squirms as I hold it tight in my arms, and I pull apart the covering to reveal: myself.
"A history of the world, my child..." a voice echoes somewhere overhead:
I peer into the brightness above me, and am transported.
Images flash before my neurons:
women in fire dancing heroes fighting agents listening prince hamlet's speech fairy trees running vertically over zebras escaped convict old man little boy friends searching water sword-stalking smiling cats batting through mouse holes a rich man enslaved a guest blowing on his hot dinner tears stained glass windows and a ballgown opera...
I snap awake.
My skin falls off in the department store, and beneath it they see that I am just a female human baby, and laugh with shuddering sound waves that bring me to my knees.
I try to make sense of the judgement, but there is no reason- so the Ring Master hands me a mask and I step onstage.
The crowds are cheering and clapping and I feel them inside of me, so many voices beating incessantly at the door.
I let them in, and begin to fly...
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