1967, Marc Chagall
" Ahh the memories, all the laughter!" He held his hand up
as if to share a secret. "It has declined- sad to say-
small Circus's have faded away!" He held up a photograph
of two people - bouquet of flowers and a chicken between them.
" My parents, back when I was young and you could raise a child
here-" He wiped a tear away. "No more."He sighed a big sigh.
" I am the last of a line, when I die-" He sliced the air with one hand
and rested it on his heart- " It is all over, under this tent-"
