Cirque de la Lune
Under the silver moon, when the streets of the city still pulsed with activity, at the heart of Tokyo, the Cirque de la Lune was well underway. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy permeated the atmosphere with the lingering taste of cigarette smoke. The heat of the crowd mingled with the uncomfortable and imposing frost of a midnight stillness. Scalpers that leaned against the metal wire fence with a stack of tickets up their sleeves and the homeless that had convened to soak up the warmth contrasted with the bright lights of the attractions outside. The stilt-walkers, in their flashy costumes and bright colours looked anything but human with their painted smiles and their bright orange head gear. And the music of the Circus, the sounded like a distant rumble before, became louder and clearer, until the drums drum-drummed with the beat of the spectators’ hearts when they were just at the threshold.
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