The Happening

I had a disturbing conversation last night.

“Can I ask you something very frankly? You are a writer, so... very frankly.”

It’s late. A member of the local team stands at my door. He’s new – two days on board. He’s going to be an important part of the operation.

He’s a little shaky at the moment.

“Is this festival really happening?”

“What do you mean? Of course, it’s happening.”

“No, really, tell me. I won’t ask the others. But you are a writer, so... very frankly. You are not doing some kind of April Fool thing, are you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“No, try to understand. I am local. I have to live here. Tell me if it’s not happening.”

“It’s happening.”

“It really is?”

“Is something wrong? Isn’t everything on track?”

“What can I tell you? We’re trying to do too many things anyway. And one minute something is locked. Then it isn’t. Then it is. Isn’t.”

The poor guy looks a bit worse for the wear. He had been all smiles yesterday.

“Look,” I say. “If this festival happens, do you think it’ll be magical?”

“If it’s really happening.”

“Have you ever wanted to do something magical?”

He nods, I think. His face is sad and lopsided.

“Then help make it happen. And it will.”

There's all kinds of magic out here already

He looks in much better spirits today. Tired, though. There’s been a meeting up on the third floor till two in the night that I didn't know about till today. They were sorting out job lists. Crossing ‘t’s and dotting ‘i’s. He’s got his own job list now on a tangible sheet of paper.

That piece of paper makes a difference.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe what you can’t see. Yet.