I once saw a man do a Houdini trick outside the National Gallery in London. It was a cold day in early December, and there was a small crowd about to see how he would unshackle himself from the chain that looked so tight around his chest. We looked on, anticipating a miracle. And then the curtain went up, in thirty-eight seconds or so, and the man looked gloriously unchained, and most of us turned around to leave. Somebody threw a coin into a dull hat, someone applauded in that limp way of early winter. There was an air of disappointment around Trafalgar Square. To this day, I think we all wanted him to fail. That was the kind of miracle we had all come to see.
Monday, 16 March 2020
travelling notes (cxxi)
I once saw a man do a Houdini trick outside the National Gallery in London. It was a cold day in early December, and there was a small crowd about to see how he would unshackle himself from the chain that looked so tight around his chest. We looked on, anticipating a miracle. And then the curtain went up, in thirty-eight seconds or so, and the man looked gloriously unchained, and most of us turned around to leave. Somebody threw a coin into a dull hat, someone applauded in that limp way of early winter. There was an air of disappointment around Trafalgar Square. To this day, I think we all wanted him to fail. That was the kind of miracle we had all come to see.
