The Scarecrow stood on the edge of the field. Replacement for his rusty tin-cans was well overdue.
The Wind stole his hat and his coat was ragged.
But joy was always coming in December .
Village children used to make a Snowman right next to the Scarecrow. Right like Snowmen should be: with a tin bucket on his head and a carrot as his nose. The sleeve of the Scarecrow’s coat was then tied to the Snowman’s twig paw and with a happy squeals children were aiming their snowballs at the pair of figures. Maybe children wanted to separate them again.
The Scarecrow was smiling though. Yes, truly. He was smiling.
And then April came on tiptoes and took the Snowman away. Just a twig remained tied to the Scarecrow’s sleeve.
But it’s alright. December will come again. Not quite soon but it will. I can wait.
I can wait.
In just one week DEREVO starts the new series of shows, where?
Yes, of course in Edinburgh. For the eighth time.
Probably there’s no need anymore. We’ve got all the main prizes. Everyone knows us here, except maybe the first wife of the Mayor, ‘cos she lives on Malta.
But the year without the Fringe seems to be incomplete. The Fringe is a running track in time. Backwards. Back to the honest days.
The show’s temper can be hardened by this. Harden, let down, bend and forge again, cling-clang… in our aprons, merrily…
Yes, there’s a risk that the „horseshoe“ of the show breaks. It may happen. That’s why it’s the Fringe.
MEPHISTO WALTZ becomes a joyous performance. I still couldn’t write a proper description text for it. I tried. I know I can do it. But it just doesn’t need any texts.