Abstract
My friend Calla loves magic tricks, especially simple ones involving coins, cards, cups, and little foam balls. We live in Baltimore and sometimes visit a magic shop in the Federal Hill neighborhood. The shop windows are appropriately scratched and filmy, and behind them clumps of decaying circus artifacts are displayed. Impossibly long and bulbous clown shoes, a life-size model of a seal balancing a ball on its nose, hoops-and-lion posters, a yellowing picture of a bearded lady. This magic shop is the kind of place that might be featured in a John Waters movie and makes me glad that I live in a city that has yet to be homogenized by uncontrolled gentrification.
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