Prestige “How does he do it?"  It was a question he’d asked his un

Prestige “How does he do it?"  It was a question he’d asked his uncle after a magic show, his mind still stumbling from one wall into the other at the sleight of hand, the unexpected doves and scarves and all the cliches that he wasn’t old enough to recognise.He’d received a ruffle on the head for his question, a light tap against his Uncle’s nose and then nothing more was said about it. But, he realised now, in retrospect, his uncle hadn’t understood his question. Just assumed that he’d been querying the methodology of the tricks, how the illusions were conjured and disappeared, made to seem other worldly and ephemeral. But that hadn’t been it. Hadn’t been it at all.  He’d wanted to know how the magician did it. How he stood up on that stage, went through the movements for each trick, made the cards float upwards, or the dove wriggle from his sleeve and out into the open air, and all the while project an air of mystery and surprise, as if he didn’t know, wasn’t aware, that all of this was just deceit. How he managed to do it all and remain just as entertained as his audience.  How does he do it? How does he hit her, over and over, until she’s red and raw, knowing full well that he’ll completely smother her in affection the moment it looks as though she’s starting to crack, fray a little at the edges. How does he hail her with insults, see her flinch every time, when not a one of them is genuine. How does he create this environment of fear and violence, when there’s not a single truth to a bit of it.  He’d answered the question years ago. At least, answered it to his own satisfaction, solved the magician’s puzzle, and put the whole thing to bed. The problem, as he saw it, was that he wasn’t seeing the right perspective. In his mind the tricks and illusions lost their lustre once you knew the secret to their performance and execution. So why would the magician keep doing it, when he knew how it was done?  He wasn’t looking at the right people. It wasn’t the magician he should have been looking at, but the audience. To see their wonderment, the amazement in their eyes at seeing such accomplished deception, and knowing that it was all just a little bit false, but being totally ok with that, because who doesn’t want to feel a little wonderment, some incredulity, now and again.  He is not a vacuum. Actions have reactions, and he wanted to live in every single one of hers, from the tiny gasps to the world-encompassing eruptions.  -- source link

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