The other day I paid to have my breath stolen.
I think I started holding my breath from the moment my friend Catherine and I saw the circus facade emerge from the trees of Varosliget. I’d never been to the circus before, after all.
We waded through a lobby filled with crunching popcorn and excited students and finally pushed through a heavy curtain to find our second-row seats on the other side. Settling inside the purple haze, we felt the energy ripple as the seats filled…almost entirely with children. Looking back, I think we were the only ones there without kids, but there was plenty of childish wonder to go around.
All of the excited energy was shifted to the edge of our seats as the lights came up and the first performer marched into the ring. We all held our breath as we watched the Hungarian folk tale of Ludas Matyi unfold in the circle and in the air, with swinging trapezes and spinning plates and tense tightrope moments.
Two hours later, the seats emptied and a dazzled crowd pushed through the curtains and back into the real world. Standing on the sidewalk In the fading afternoon sun, I let loose the breath that had been suspended just as surely as the performer twirling from the ceiling.
The dazzling lights, the death defying feats, the electric excitement–a trip to the circus is like a trip to another world. And it’s sure to leave you breathless.
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