Haven’t really had anything posted for a while. But just finished this personal narrative for english class and so have a read, and comment if any 8J er’s are still out there. hehe. We had to use a lot of figurative language and all.
It was late into the year and my mother and I were trekking through the jungle of bright lights and endless casinos. We were in Vegas. The excitement was frolicking through the air. I gathered in a breath to remind myself where I was, and was hit by a truck of reality. Tonight my mother and I went to see Cirque du Soleil, a world famous Canadian circus playing at a towering hotel called the Mirage. The four letters L, O, V, E was splashed onto the hotel’s side. That’s the name of the show made to be based around The Beatles music. This city knows no night, for the lights at night shine just as bright as the sun does in the mellow mornings. It’s six-o’clock as the sun sets; the city’s slowly awakening from its slumber.
We rushed to the grand hotel, hands joined in a web of fingers. There the ticket booth sat, waiting for us. We handed in our tickets and progressed to the entrance. The excitement drew us closer. We found our seats on the balcony and waited for the show to begin. My camera stayed put in my bag, acknowledging that it was an unwelcomed guest. I have only my eyes to record what happens.
The show started off mellow and blue. Three or four performers began climbing a rope. Gravity seems non-existent for them as if they were in another world; the astronaut’s movements were in perfect sync. A Beatle’s song plays in the background. The ropes they’re climbing are so still it looks like a steel bar. Suddenly, the place ignites and explodes. The music dances wildly in the air. A party goes on.
I felt like Alice in Wonderland, as strangely dressed performers frolic about on the stage. I see a work of art in lively motion. Some are in the air, while others are hopping around. I frame this painting into my head.
I’m transported back to England during the war, as Eleanor Rigby plays. The mood changes in an instant. Everyone is in rags, dreary and moping. They were scattered like beads; my eyes skips and hops trying to take everything in as the performers bounced between trampolines like kangaroos. There was this brick wall and these performers punched through them as if they were a boulder. Everything was so weird that I lacked words to describe it. The gears in my head struggled to make sense of it all.
A car worked its way onto the stage for the next performance as Drive My Car plays. To my amazement, the vehicle broke into several pieces as I realized that tucked in the car were people holding each car part in place so it looked like a whole. I remember seeing the wacky performers sliding into the car’s front window like a CD slipping into the video player. I felt as if I was in the 70’s or some era that I didn’t belong to.
I recollected seeing squeaky yellow boots on the screen. A man has boots dangling on his puppet’s string. As he moves the string, an invisible figure starts moving. An angry squeaky boot dispute happens between another two people. I am drawn into this queer quarrel.
Yellow Submarine comes on. A tarp forms a vast ocean over the audience. The water is clear blue. Octopuses and jellyfish roam around the aquarium. I’m underwater. I looked to my mom and I felt glad to be enjoying this with her beside me. I was in some other world and my mind was taken with it. No longer was I flooded with life’s troubles. I was freed. I took my time roaming around in this strange world. I escaped and as I dived into the waters, I hoped that I wouldn’t be found.