Day 11 - BUBBLES

Last night was a great night at the circus. We saw some amazing acts by some amazingly talented and dedicated performers which the images in yesterday's post can only hint at. Yet for all their wonder and WOWness, the act that's stayed with me most is the simplest of them all; the bubble blowing one. A woman with a bucket of soapy water and things to blow bubbles with. 

To be fair, she had dressed up for the occasion. And blew bubbles with grace and much finesse. But it wasn't nearly as impressive as the others. Not by a long way. And yet it has remained.

Something about its simplicity and the princessy glittery-ness touched me. As if I was watching it with the eyes of a young girl. Which is weird because I was never into pretty dresses or anything remotely Disney-ish when I was little. I much preferred "rotten old jeans and rotten old jumpers" as my Aunt Chris used to say, and climbing trees. But somehow I felt that sense of magic last night. And a longing for beauty. 

The news this morning is bleak. And there's a lot of ugly behaviour going on right now. The world feels volatile and unsafe. And the reality of returning to some sort of normality, a long way off. If at all. So these moments of beauty feel all the more precious. And glimpses of colour and wonder, vital.

Which makes me think of the Flying Seagulls. And the work they do taking the circus to some desperate places. 

I imagine if you're a young girl who's found herself living in a refugee camp, not quite knowing why she's there or where she's going next, a glimpse of beauty is priceless. A jewel of a memory to hold on to in the midst of her "new normal." Whether that's the precision of an acrobat's back-flip or the connection of a belly laugh with a bumbling clown. Or a moment shared blowing bubbles. And watching them glint and giggle in the sun.