5/5 Rilan K. 1 year ago on Google • 49 reviews
What
is
a
carousel?
When
it
ceases
to
turn,
as
it
has
today,
is
it
still
a
carousel?
This
is
the
question
to
which
I
sought
an
answer
on
today's
traverse
in
the
Park
of
Prospect.
The
carousel,
otherwise
known
as
a
roundabout,
a
merry-go-round
(perhaps
purposely
misleading
to
the
dispositions
of
nauseous
children),
or
a
hurdy-gurdy,
originated
from
12th
century
Arabian
(?)
games
known
as
carosellos,
or
"little
wars"
according
to
the
Park
of
Bryant,
but
I
do
not
know
this
Bryant
so
I
leave
it
to
the
merit
of
the
reader
as
to
whether
this
definition
ought
to
be
trusted.
A
selection
of
field
notes:
-
In
other
areas
of
the
park
I
was
burdened
by
the
sight
of
many
unaccompanied
children
who
did
not
appear
worried
that
they
might
be
kidnapped.
This
is
either
exceedingly
utopian
or
exceedingly
dystopian,
depending
on
the
statistics.
This
was
not
the
case
by
the
carousel
-
coincidence?
-
All
the
windows
of
the
carousel
were
covered
in
a
metallic
material
and
grates,
and
I
was
unable
to
see
inside.
It
begs
to
question,
what
do
they
have
to
hide?
-
Some
trees
in
the
area
were
blooming,
while
others
were
still
bare.
What
had
stripped
these
trees
of
their
innocence,
I
ask?
-
In
the
upper
corners
of
the
hurdy-gurdy,
there
lay
several
windows
around
the
octagonal
walls.
I
have
seen
these
windows
before,
on
ancient
battlements
where
the
powers
of
strong
countries
were
reduced
to
the
killing
of
powerless
men.
If
we
are
to
grow
as
a
global
world,
what
are
these
bygone
remnants
to
contribute?
-
Caution
tape
was
strung
up
to
mark
the
boundaries
of
the
carousel's
land.
Those
who
tried
to
walk
through
its
openings
were
surprised
to
find
themselves
in
a
space
as
similar
to
that
which
they
had
just
exited
as
any
pebble
is
to
a
paperweight.
It
begs
to
question,
why
was
the
carousel
so
eager
to
protect
its
territory,
if
it
has
nothing
to
hide?
If
the
reader
senses
my
mistrust
of
this
social
structure,
it
is
only
because
of
how
often
I
was
brought
to
parks
in
my
younger
years
to
travel
through
preemptive
nostalgia
on
this
circular
horse
farm,
only
to
find
that
the
animals
had
gone
on
strike.
Such
has
it
taken
so
long
to
overcome
my
fear
of
collective
action,
so
passionately
misaligned
were
the
interests
of
the
horses
and
mine.
Testimony
in
verse
from
an
overzealous
squirrel
who
claims
to
have
lived
in
the
area
several
winters:
My
grandmother
of
grandmothers
of
mine
Before
the
advent
of
man
in
our
world
Had
our
games
of
spherical
rendezvous
And
would
spend
hours
or
more
with
tails
unfurled
Running
in
chase,
about
each
other's
backs.
Never
catching
up
nor
running
down,
yet
Found
ourselves
close
enough
apart
to
fall
Beside
our
competitors
for
banquet.
Why
sacrifice
feasts
to
raise
the
game's
stakes?
Where'er
the
carousel
turns,
bellies
ache.
The
carousel
was
closed
when
I
visited
so
I
only
thought
it
appropriate
to
give
it
a
5
star
review
because
I
don't
really
know
whether
lower
or
higher
reviews
will
get
it
running
again.
Actually,
it's
probably
just
closed
for
the
season.
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