CrypticBullshit
It was just like any other old day working in a travelling circus. The tent was being inflated, so the main acts congregated nowhere in particular. They just practiced their respective acts. The contortionist twisted themselves around the velvet roped dangling from a crane. The sword swallower worked carefully, pulling a silver dagger from her throat. The magician worked alone in a corner, pulling a white dove from their undershirt's sleave, then putting in into a rusted bird cage. The trapeze artist spun on a blue silk, doing flips above the giant's head, poking his nose and cheeks with each few turns. The ring leader paid no mind to the crew of freaks, or the abundance of nondescript vehicles passing by as the hot day wavered on.