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Beauty Without Words

Kat and I just spent the last five days at Walt Disney World with my parents, sister, and her guy.  The family time—a first, really, as it had very little in common with the family road trips of decades past—was a much-needed break in all the craziness (by substituting for it a different sort of craziness, I suppose) of our recent life.  I got to be a personal bodyguard to the goddess Babylonia, at least for a few minutes, while at the Adventurers’ Club, so that was fun.  We also got to attend Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party on Halloween night itself, and the Imagineers really outdid themselves.  The train station at Main Street USA looked spooky enough that someone asked if it was the Haunted Mansion.

While we were at Disney, we all went to see La Nouba for the first time, and Kat and I saw Quidam last month during its stop in Cleveland.  Both productions were deeply, inexpressibly moving; the artists of Cirque du Soleil have created forms of beauty for which no words exist, and perhaps never should.

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November 2002
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