Wonders.

Music.

The circus.

Marco Machiavelli is an enchanting man. A man with cards up his sleeve. With doves flying every time he ruffled his coat.

He was charming. Luminous. Lighting a room with his tricks and laughter.

But of course, the circus master always said he was nothing without his family.

His circus troupe.

Acrobats, a strongman, jugglers, clowns to fit in a small car, two lovers in trapeze, you name it.

Tonight was the opening night. The very first night in Europe. The crowds were large with cheery disposition.

The circus acts set aside, the elephants bowing in the direction of a red carpet. And stepping out from it..

“Please welcome the one and the only!”

All awaiting to see the one, the only,

“Marco Machiavelli!”