There are no mistakes in life, some people say; and it's true sometimes, you could see it that way.
[Nighttime, Saturday July 25th]
Anushka all but dances around me when I propose going to the Carnival. She leaps from our bed, skipping her way to her wardrobe and draping herself in silk and diamonds. I laugh to see her, a little girl who's been promised an evening out, and the chance to dress in her mother's finery. She dresses in a whirl, then skims barefoot across the floor back to me. Barefoot, of course, eager to be swept into my arms and carried away through the shadows. And I am happy to oblige her.
The Carnival is a wonderland of lights and music and laughter and the dark scent of predators hanging in the shadows. There's sex happening in the shadows, not all of it consensual, thieves lurking in the dark. There's a child screaming as her parents drag her through the Haunted House, and I know she will have nightmares for weeks afterwards. There are shows that only come on at night, when all the "respectable" folk have gone home, shows of bared breasts and aborted freaks, of pain and knives and sex.
...Have I mentioned that I love Carnivals?
And Anushka seems to agree. Her eyes shine with colours and she skips barefoot between the stalls, through puddles and past laughing families before whirling her way back to me. I have to laugh, watching her. So damn happy. Sometimes the simplest things make her happy, and it's nice to see her when she is.
I catch her when she next goes whirling past me and she laughs, curling against me and sliding her arms between me and my coat. Smiling, I wrap my arms around her in kind and lift her up. "What do you feel like playing with, my gauekoentzat? A ride? A game? Or do you just want to sit and watch the people for a little while?"
...at some point, I know what I want to do. But that can wait.
[OPEN to those at the Carnival]
Anushka all but dances around me when I propose going to the Carnival. She leaps from our bed, skipping her way to her wardrobe and draping herself in silk and diamonds. I laugh to see her, a little girl who's been promised an evening out, and the chance to dress in her mother's finery. She dresses in a whirl, then skims barefoot across the floor back to me. Barefoot, of course, eager to be swept into my arms and carried away through the shadows. And I am happy to oblige her.
The Carnival is a wonderland of lights and music and laughter and the dark scent of predators hanging in the shadows. There's sex happening in the shadows, not all of it consensual, thieves lurking in the dark. There's a child screaming as her parents drag her through the Haunted House, and I know she will have nightmares for weeks afterwards. There are shows that only come on at night, when all the "respectable" folk have gone home, shows of bared breasts and aborted freaks, of pain and knives and sex.
...Have I mentioned that I love Carnivals?
And Anushka seems to agree. Her eyes shine with colours and she skips barefoot between the stalls, through puddles and past laughing families before whirling her way back to me. I have to laugh, watching her. So damn happy. Sometimes the simplest things make her happy, and it's nice to see her when she is.
I catch her when she next goes whirling past me and she laughs, curling against me and sliding her arms between me and my coat. Smiling, I wrap my arms around her in kind and lift her up. "What do you feel like playing with, my gauekoentzat? A ride? A game? Or do you just want to sit and watch the people for a little while?"
...at some point, I know what I want to do. But that can wait.
[OPEN to those at the Carnival]