Reminiscent of Lullabies

The sound of the cirque is constant, blending with the gasps of patrons, scuff of shoes and rustles of curtains. It comes from no exact location, only spreads into each crack and crevis of the circus, and settling like a blanket over the area enclosed in the pearlescent gates. Twinkling bells, forlorn flutes, windchimes, langorous strings playing daunting melodies. In some tents though, the music changes subtly from the music outside. The tunes are exotic, mismatched pieces overlapping one another, other tunes are slow and dauting, sorrowful or familiar, reminiscent of lullabies. Each song is heard only once, deliciously new and hypnotic, yet when a patron tries to recall it, hum it to themselves or share it with a friend, it escapes their grasp, slipping from memory.
In few tents, sound stops all together. Muted by fabric or silenced completely. Replaced by wind, breathing, the sound of flickering candles as fragile as whispers.

Text by Lucie MacAulay