In a short story titled, “City of Clowns” (based on the title alone, I had to read it) by a writer named Daniel Alarcon, occurs the passage below. The story is a personal reflection but involves a young journalist writing a story about clowns in the city of Lima, Peru. In this passage he has joined with two clowns to accompany them during their work day, himself dressed as a clown.
“Walking through the city, one-third of a trio of clowns, I was surprised to find how relaxed I was, and how invisible. You’d think the world’s gazes would have converged upon us, on our loud costumes and painted smiles, but most people simply ignored us, walked past without a glance; only the children smiled and pointed, sometimes waved. Jhon and Tonio chatted about soccer; I watched and listened in a daydream.”
Later on he accepts money from an ex-girlfriend who is completely unaware of who he is.
I like this passage and while it only explains some portion of the encounters unicyclists have with passers-by, it seems true.
The complete story is on The New Yorker’s website.
Raphael Lasar
Matawan, NJ