“A real American-style carnivale,” my bubbles told me as I arrived, a few minutes later than him. And he wasn’t wrong. The rides and food stalls… and the way that families and groups of friends and couples were packed into the space. Being out this late, and seeing so many other people out this late – without fearing for their safety, was a new experience for us. This is what living feels like. Locks and keys and fears are for those willing to settle for being slaves and hostages. 
Smeaton’s tower has some green hearts on it. Five of them, each representing one of the people who died in the recent tragedy. I struggled with how hard the community took it… where I’m from… five deaths is a slow day. Too hard. Too desensitized. Not sure how to deal with empathy, and the sacredness of life. 
But then the moment of silence descends… and the crowd put their own lights up… and I realize… indeed, I am PART of this. For the first time in my life, I belong. I am welcome. And I can feel something descend over me… a feeling not of sadness, or resentment, or anger over what has been… but a feeling of love. For all those around me. 
The first, little boom. A tribute of hearts, for our fallen. This was as big as I’ve ever seen fireworks… having never been to a show of this size. My mind was not prepared for what was to follow. 
Imagine, if you will… a series of temporary masterpieces. Fiery mandalas that light up the sky and crack across the air, forming shapes and dancing in ways that defy physics. Impossible displays that morph and merge and flow… the sky is on fire, but it is simultaneously at peace. And it is beautiful beyond what my little camera phone can possibly capture. 
There is no way to experience fireworks like this without being there, physically. Colorful balls floating. Golden cracks across the screen of the matrix. Fountains of glowing fire. Balls. Cauliflowers. Beyond description. Just wow.
(Click on the arrows) and visit the British Fireworks Championship with me.
Mind Blown.
