Gilles has a Franco-esque freakout

Above, an excerpt from the "Waking Up the Neighbours" shoot. Gilles has a Franco-esque freakout during our late night shoot, and I just can't resist sharing. I spent the last two days on the train pouring over the footage and staring out the window. Inspired by some banter from one of the acts on the bill, and the dynamic of the two characters in the video, I penned the poem below.

The Magician's Apprentice

"I believe in magic."

she says,

while scattering her

fairy dust across the room.

I sneeze into my soup.

"I'm allergic to fairies."

I reply.

Later, with the dishes cleared,

the empty table

forms the space between us.

"I think you're a cynic."

she tells me,

as she turns her palms up.

"Nothing up my sleeve."

"Would you like to smell a flower?"

she inquires,

I slowly shake my head,

knowing there's a trick to it.

She stuffs the flower deep into the pocket of her dress,

"Maybe another time."

I offer.

"Don't you miss hope and possibility?"

she asks,

so I proceed to detail

the day's atrocities,

a catalogue of suffering and pain.

She plugs her ears with

coloured scarves.

"The whole world is an illusion."

I assert,

"I'm never fooled by the veil."

She counters, "Abracadabra."

And I believe in magic now,

for with these very eyes,

I watch her disappear.