Inside the day.

Three shows in a row.
Almost no breaks, no food, no time.
Everything blends together - bodies, dust, sweat, and the light of spotlights - and in all of that, there’s no room left for pretending.
It’s impossible to be anyone other than yourself.
It felt as if the camera wasn’t in the way,
but rather helped them say: look, here I am, here we are, this is it -
all real, all alive.
And you are here, with us - you’re alive too.
I see an acrobat crossing herself before stepping on stage -
and I know it’s not because “she was taught to.”
It’s a real prayer, after the fall she had not long ago.
I see another girl stretching on the bikers’ frame,
even though she’s already performed a whole show perfectly.
I see one of the acrobats limping after another show -
and I realize I hadn’t noticed anything went wrong during it.
The thought breaks me into tears -
what if he had already gone onstage through pain?..
I see how you can trust people,
even without knowing most of their names.
And the ones I do know - I still manage to mix up :)
But that doesn’t stop me from feeling they’re family.
I hope you can see it too.
...I see that in all this chaos, human boundaries are not an empty phrase - they’re respected at the highest level.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t afraid when one of the artists came closer than I usually let strangers come -
he was simply trying to shout through the music to say,
“thank you for photos.”
- Can I make an exhibition about you?
- Of course, you can even ask no one - we’re all Latinos, good people.
...I see the juggler who just can’t stop throwing and catching, even backstage - as if letting go would make everything fall apart.
And I can’t let go either.

In the circus, I found as much truth as I had been searching for all my life.
When it was all over, one of the artists helped me carry all the cameras to the car.
We walked out of the tent, loaded the equipment, said goodbye. I sat down on the curb next to the car and started to cry.
For a long time. From happiness, from exhaustion,
from the impossibility of taking it all in.
I stopped crying about a month later.
Or maybe I never stopped at all.