An old friend who has come to visit is a magician. I didn’t know until last night, and it thrills me. I am the most gullible person when it comes to tricks. I want them to be real magic. I do not want to know the secret (please do not tell me). When his trick made it seem that he had guessed the exact card I had picked from the shuffled deck in my mind, I felt a pure thrill, a shiver up my spine—no joke. After we left, I couldn’t stop talking about it. “How did he do it?” I asked E. Then added, “No, don’t tell me.” Then, “But, really, HOW did he do it?” And on, and on. There should be nothing wrong in believing—hoping—wanting something to be entirely unexplainable. He saw the Ace of Hearts in my mind and pulled it out of thin air. That has to be it.


  1. Your feelings about magic are the exact opposite of mine. Magicians piss me off, I know it’s not real magic and I like to KNOW things, I want to know how it’s done and they never tell. Bastards. I’d far rather know than believe.

  2. I want magic to be fun! I so badly don’t want to ruin the “illusion” that the second night we were with our magician friend and he started telling e how he did this one trick I had to plug up my ears and start humming insanely until they had finished, for fear my wonderment would shatter all over the floor because the trick was so OBVIOUS. (And perhaps it was.) I like magic over real life. I like fiction over nonfiction. I’m just unable to grasp reality, I guess.

    …He comes back next week. I’m hoping for more tricks!

  3. “Magic is like sausage. Everybody loves it, but you don’t want to see how it’s made. It’s a huge letdown”

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