“Kipling once said that ‘‘a locomotive is, next to a marine engine, the most sensitive thing man ever made”, and I decided to follow his lead and also write about it. My mind conjured up the long-forgotten and warm word ‘‘locomotive”, a bit hoarse, breathing out clouds of steam, smelling of coal even in wet weather. The locomotive led me to another joy – the circus, smelling of tarpaulin, sawdust and of something I would not like to call manure. The travelling circus of my childhood. So these two motifs met – the locomotive and the circus. These were the things that seemed to have long disappeared and I felt a need to tell about that feeling of paradise I’d once found myself in not deserving it and from where life had exiled me.