By Rohan Fitzpatrick
We stood in a circle on Hoover Avenue. He waved his hat and tapped his cane. The children wanted photographs with him, old people whispered, grinned. We all clapped, some threw money. He didn’t take it.
“A volunteer?” he asked. He had been speaking very little all morning, teasing us with glimpses of his skills, promising to “shower us with magic.” He frightened rooftop pigeons with little more than a wave of his cane, made telephone cables ripple overhead. Shop doors swung open and clapped shut, manhole covers unscrewed on their own like they were part of a child’s play set. The silence made it unbearable. I wanted him to laugh with us, give us hints as to how it was done, prove that it was all just an elaborate trick.[Read more…] about Inside Out