Something About The Circus Stirs Their Souls,

Grow Up, Bailey." "that Is Precisely What I'm Doing," Bailey Says. "i Don't Care If You Don't Understand That. Staying Here Won't Make Me Happy. It Will Make You Happy Because You're Insipid And Boring, And An Insipid, Boring Life Is Enough For You. It's Not Enough For Me. It Will Never Be Enough For Me. So I'm Leaving. Do Me A Favor And Marry Someone Who Will Take Decent Care Of The Sheep.

It’s Said That All Hallows’ Eve Is One Of The Nights When The Veil Between The Worlds Is Thin - And Whether You Believe In Such Things Or Not, Those Roaming Spirits Probably Believe In You, Or At Least Acknowledge Your Existence, Considering That It Used To Be Their Own. Even The Air Feels Different On Halloween, Autumn-crisp And Bright.

At The Center, Where A Cuckoo Bird Would Live In A More Traditional Timepiece, Is The Juggler. Dressed In Harlequin Style With A Grey Mask, He Juggles Shiny Silver Balls That Correspond To Each Hour. As The Clock Chimes, Another Ball Joins The Rest Until At Midnight He Juggles Twelve Balls In A Complex Pattern. After Midnight The Clock Begins Once More To Fold In Upon Itself. The Face Lightens And The Clouds Return. The Number Of Juggled Balls Decreases Until The Juggler Himself Vanishes. By Noon It Is A Clock Again, And No Longer A Dream.

Misdirection Is One Of My Strengths.

I Have Been Surrounded By Love Letters You Two Have Built Each Other For Years, Encased In Tents.