Every year, there’s street performance festival in our neighborhood. The organizers put together a good selection of comedians, acrobats, jugglers, interpretive artists and such. Some of it is great, some not so much. Maybe it’s not Cirque du Soleil, but it doesn’t cost $200 either.
Unfortunately, this act was rather disturbing.
Backed up by an exceptional jazz combo, this was one of the worst magicians I have ever seen. She did some rather ordinary tricks really badly, dropping both cards and coins, and when she poured wine out of a newspaper, you could see the plastic bag inside it. Then an acrobat took over and when the magician returned she was wearing nothing but a black teddy. She stuck a skewer through her tongue and used a spoon to drive some nails up her nose. Then she pulled out a razor blade. I hate to walk out in the middle of a performance, but…ewww. We decided it was time to move on.
Then there was Kera.
A relic of a Tokyo that is nearly extinct, our neighborhood has a section of extremely narrow alleys lined with tiny bars and restaurants. Some parts of it are barely negotiable by bicycle. I love wandering around in there.
The powers that be had assigned Kera to an intersection of two of those tiny alleys. There was about a meter between him and the audience and barely any space for passers-by to do their thing, but he made the best of it, and was mesmerizing. The restricted space didn’t stop him from dancing, and he also did some pretty cool stuff with a crystal ball and somehow unsquashed an empty cola can and refilled it. It was like watching time pass in reverse. (Tongue kabob lady could use a few lessons from him.) The last part of the act was a pantomime and at the end of it, he conjured a rosebud out of nowhere and offered it to me.
The little girl sitting in front of me tried to take it but I wouldn’t let her have it.
Hey, don’t judge me. When was the last time a handsome stranger in a sharp suit offered YOU a flower?