"Would you like me to tell you the future?" asks a rough yet velvety voice. The quirky elderly lady waves me over to her colorful wooden booth. "Come on, come on. You look confused. Are you lost?”
I don't think she's wrong at all. I got lost, lost my way. Somehow.
"What's the best way to get to the Ferris wheel? I do not have much time."
"All roads lead to the Ferris wheel," she replies. "But you have to walk it, otherwise you won't get there." Her answer isn't much help and somehow hits me right in the heart.
"Why in such a hurry? Don't you want to know your future? I can read them from their hands.”
"Maybe later," I reply, and hurry past, so fast that all the colors and lights become a rainbow tail in the corner of my eyes. The offer is tempting. To know what will happen. The future. Like no other time it is so familiar, abstract and uncertain. Begin with every step, with every new breath and every decision. And with every choice, it can change or even end.
Exhibitors lure and call. Fair of Curiosities. "50 entries for half price!" "Hit and get the main prize!" Sounds tempting, but I've learned one thing: Luck doesn't do things by halves.
It smells temptingly of roasted almonds, cotton candy and roasted chestnuts. The chain carousel, the break dancers, the bumper cars, the people: everything is spinning, moving and yet not making any progress. A sea of lights, sparkles and huge plush bears embraced by small hands. One shot, two stuffed roses. And me in the middle. Until I finally stand in front of it.
Majestic, kitschy, colorful and deserted, it towers high above my head, where the wind blows through the gondolas and composes a strange melody. The song of past summers and forgotten promises. I can already see myself running to the cash register and getting into the gondola, one foot in front of the other, with the colorful chips in my fingers. And you hold my hand The ferris wheel starts to turn and the world gets smaller and smaller, blurry until it blurs completely and only our contours remain. And I see myself through your eyes. how i laugh The wind blows strands and memories in my face. But the breeze instantly cools and I feel summer melt like sand between my fingertips and turn into golden leaves.
And I notice how I carefully snuggle into my coat when I read the wooden sign at the checkout: "Out of order".
All that can be heard is that soft and sad sound of the gondolas swaying back and forth in the wind. A strange metallic sound, similar to that heard at train stations and airports when saying goodbye. The inevitable symphony of farewell. A part of me is still sitting in the gondola, looking down at me. But I don't have to float to live anymore. I don't have to fly to love anymore. I like to have both feet on the ground. "Yes, look down at me!" But I can only smile at the sky.
It's slowly getting dark. I no longer search like a driven person, instead I walk through the fair and let the staged but also real happiness of the people affect me. mise-en-scène of happiness. Because in between she is real. The joy. Then the brightly decorated wooden booth reappears. Large shells adorn the red and gold lacquered wood. The fortune teller peeks out of her little window while sucking on a cigarette butt.
"There you are. How about it? Are you ready for the future now?”
"Yes," I say resolutely and at the same time make my way home. The woman is visibly irritated.
"But then let me predict it for you." She calls after me. I smile at her like you once smiled at me. She looks at me confused.
The future.
I don't have to know them to believe in them, as long as I just do my best in the here and now and everything will happen.
Before I turn around, the old woman smiles back.
"I see," she murmurs, waving goodbye. Goodbye Ferris wheel. The view was beautiful but I can't keep going in circles.
Nice story, lina. 🙂
Thank you Mara I'm glad you liked it 😉