“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 traveling 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”.