I’m an orphan raised by carnies fighting with a stick and a string from the Paleolithic era. So when I say this looks “bad”? I promise you it feels worse.
People don’t come to see freaks of the heat of the day. They come in the evening. When the darkness moves in and speaks of mystery. The unknown. When logic loosen up its vice grip and the imagination comes out to play. The night allows the stars to shine and we come alive.
Every kid dreams of being a superhero, having powers, saving people — but no kid thinks about what it’s like when you’re a hero and you’re not saving people. Truth is, not much else changes. You still hurt, you still love… you still wish, and hope, and fear things… and you still need people to help you with all of it. In some ways, that’s the best part.