...and you twirl, and swirl, and move through the tent, raising dust and hay off the floor. What a sight it is, my dear! I wonder if you even know it is empty. You've been in here for quite some time now, you know? Oh, of course you don't.

Wonder if you know what performance you are supposed to be, you mindless little thing. Do you have any idea where do you come from, or by now you have forgotten all that, maybe, never was? When did you came into this carnival? Have you came from outside, or have always been there? Do you think you have created it, or do you ponder if it created you? Or, perhaps, truth does not matters and you simply want to be made by it, to belong?

Can you even stop, can you even leave? Where would you go for, if you do so? Will it be as far as where we will go?

Will it be as fun? My dear, we roam eternities every night, we harness darkness to pull our carts and cages and wagons, and you and I both know it isn't your first time here. But it does not matters, I believe. So let's leave her to her dance and practice, she still has long journey ahead... Oh, you were thinking I was talking to this poor thing behind the ropes? Oh no, for her...

You want me to say it, don't you? Well... For her there is no hope - only performance left, and everything else left behind, discarded among images from past life, withered like autumn leaves, and pale in comparison to our show. She's carnival now, and carnival is her - show never splits, and once one is in it - they're here forever.

Your cheeks flush, my dear. It's fine to be afraid. Perhaps, perhaps another time. When we meet again on crossroads between those little dreams of yours, we're always looking for new performers. Our doors are always open to those craving bliss of self-forgetfulness...


Oh, do you say in this land "self-forgetful" means simply being selfless? Well, tisk-tisk...