My mental circus, inside and out.

ghosts

There is a ghost tour in this town of which I speak.  After dark, I climbed the stairs to the monument, where the actor was standing.  He had a straw hat to cover his bald spot, baggy pants, a vest.   I suspect ghost tours employ many actors across the English-speaking world in towns where tourism and history intersect, the best probably being in London where mayhem defines the tourist experience.  So in this town, which has been shattered by several major disasters emanating from a busy harbor, the ghost tour is full of references to persons who have, in a way, survived catastrophe by becoming ethereal spirits, compulsively repeating the moment of trauma.   We walked around the streets, accompanied by half a dozen children, as the actor pointed out shadows in the windows,  speaking in a hushed tone because the citizens behind these windows do not always appreciate a nightly lecture on the dead lieutenant and the murdered prostitute.   So I gave the actor a copy of my book, hoping that my murderer will make the annals of harbor ghosts, his story repeated four times a week.

Posted by: EmmaPele at October 16, 2005 20:56 | link | comments