In the shade of the old wagon little ones sat in awe, listening to the aging woman speak of her childhood. Her favourite story was not her imagination playing tricks with her mind. She had been there the day the monkeys flew . . .
“We gathered from behind our mother’s skirts. Unafraid of the menagerie chained to the wagon bed. They covered the field at the edge of town. An odd lot of wagons filled with laughter and gayety. Colours streaming from tops of the circus tents. The lady with a beard, prancing horses, gum drops and the trapeze monkey twins” . . .
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life