Cirque Du Soleil: A small town of tents with thick steel coils bolted to the ground. Darkness surrounds a center swimming in a rainbow of lights. Gridwork towers, a complex network flanked by forest-clad hills, and in the distance are the snow-covered mountain peaks glistening in the hues of the setting sun. The portals of the main towers illustrate there are innumerable attributes of the experience of sleep and dreaming that might be focused upon as definitive, but people in various cultures tend to focus on only something new--architecture in structural steel. Beauty is secured without camouflage or ornamentation. The lines of the portals are planned to harmonize with the lines of the cablesfrom which to swing. No ideas but in motivations. No philosophies but in music. No words but in pins tossed into the air and amazingly juggled.

From a tunnel they emerge: jesters, harlequins, Koshare clowns, and Krusty, bantering the audience, stealing a child,

turning her upsidedown then returning her home. "Evil clowns" stripping the audience of dignity, the illusion of security, all in fun?

"I made myself small, so as not to be noticed by the clowns," someone who attended before had warned.

Don't be noticed.
Don't be the chosen
One. Don't let your
World be turned
            on its head.