Collection: Circus
On that thin line between fear and enchantment, magic hangs in the air. Circus: a sleight of hand performed in plain sight — all too much and never enough, the word itself a derivative of circle. Circus: a theme to which I return and return. Close to my bones, the narrative of a sideshow — summoned by a barker for a glimpse behind the curtain. In the soundtrack of the big top plays a dissonant calliope I recognize — some anthem of my dazzling, strange, familiar home.
A circus of stars,
your dreams a trapeze, faces
lift like mirrored moons.
— Imtiaz Dharker
