dear samaritan.

I have been a circus nomad 60 years of my life. I joined in France in 1823. A 15 year old girl with the breasts and wits of a 32 year old woman. I could twirl like the best of them and move with the rest of them. And we moved a lot. About every 5 days. And within those days, when we were stationed to perform, no moment was ever alike. The only routines we knew of were when we were flailing our arms and legs for crowds of people, who had absolutely no idea what they were truly witnessing. All that went on behind the curtains. And what a shame. Because it was far more fascinating than the performances. The tent, and the swarms of citizens were all but a quick dream right before waking up, right before walking into the back side of the spectacle, beyond the velvet and into the lace. Where we all allegedly ran the show. On scraps of paper, scraps of fabric, hot hot nights where you could choose to sleep on the ground or on top of someone, or not at all. We were all just freaks, and that was it. When we were in the spotlight, we were just highly trained freaks, and that was it. And we were, highly trained. And we were, freaks. That's what gave us the ability to sore through the air and blow kisses at whatever blokes. It was always the young girls who handled the mess and assured damage control, from owners and brothers whose greed and power and pride and arrogance stacked atop one another's until everything toppled. About once a night. It was the girls who banned together to pack up the trunks at 4 in the morning and drag them accross dark fields and hoist them into train cars with our pale and skinny arms. Then we often just sat in the train car, behind all the trunks and boxes and costumes, just listening to men hollering at men and wailing animals. It seemed not to phase us, but we cared a lot. I put on such an air of carelessness and aloofness, and that's what gave me the ability to haul trunks around well into another day. But whenever I could, I would find a very safe place to be alone and I would cry. A highly trained, fearless, bold young girl who took beatings as a sport, still sat in the elephant ring to fall apart. My favorite time of the night. It's what gave me the ability to haul heavy trunks well into a new day.