Older Art and a bit of writing:
A light breeze blew down the street, carrying the scent of popcorn, cotton, candy and the less pleasant smell of their
animals. It was only late October, but the contrast between the circus tent and the world around it couldn't have been bigger.
The warm light of the tent promised coziness and happiness, hours of carefree entertainment, wonders, and amazement.
The world around was less inviting. A constant spray of rain had soaked Clint's hoodie, the breeze feeling much cooler
through the wet fabric. The grey overcast sky showed no sign of clearing up.
For Clint it was just another night of performing, another night of being the incredible Hawkeye- the world's best
marksman. The guy who never missed a target. Somewhat famous by that point, his stage name was the reason why the
tent was full every night. Hawkeye and the Swordsman- the famous duo. Smile. Perform. Repeat daily
It used to be an adventure. Fun. Something to be proud of. As long as he had been a kid. Now, in his late teens, the sight of the
tent, the music and growing crowd made him want to run away. The smell of of cotton candy made him sick nowadays.
He wanted to leave. If only he had a place to go to. After all, these people were his family, and despite all the pain and hardship, it was the best he had ever had.
