If you step aside for a moment the day will seem like a noisy and colourful parade or triumph in which you are caught up, see it now with a brass band and majorettes, floats with exotic scenes in tableaux, and barkers, confetti, enticing smells of food and coffee from smoking caravans painted in arabesques, fakirs and fortune tellers, snake charmers and a wheel of fortune, dancing mimes, harlequins and skeletons - you've been totally caught up in it, audience and actor and impresario, all your work - and the same every day. The illusion is tawdry, it dances you, feeds on you. And even these moments when with a mild shock of sudden quiet you shake your head lost in the strangeness of it are a curated sideshow, you pay your penny to sit for a moment before a tarnished mirror.