I made a wish on this tree years ago," Marco says. "What did you wish for?" Bailey asks. Marco leans forward and whispers in Bailey's ear. "I wished for her.

I couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what I wanted to be real.

And there are really never endings, happy or otherwise.

People see what they wish to see. And in most cases, what they are told that they see.

I find I think of myself not as a writer so much as someone who provides a gateway, a tangential route for readers to reach the circus. To visit the circus again, if only in their minds, when they are unable to attend it physically. I relay it through printed words on crumpled newsprint, words that they can read again and again, returning to the circus whenever they wish, regardless of time of day or physical location. Transporting them at will. When put that way, it sounds rather like magic, doesn't it? p.369

I wished for her,” he says.

You prefer not to see the gears of the clock, as to better tell time.