ジョシュ・ブローリンのインスタグラム(joshbrolin) - 5月1日 12時24分

I was twenty-one. It was all black and white out and I had gone for a cigarette after rehearsing with my father who was practicing putting his head in Barry the Lion’s mouth all morning. I was dancing around, jumping up and down on things, getting my legs warmed up for the night show. That lion kept looking over at me, knowing that he couldn’t close down on my father’s head because of some psychology of domination but if he were ever to get me alone he knew I’d be toast: a hyena on the run, a gazelle with a gimp leg, or simply just a little person without legs long enough to get away. We’d been in that town for 8 nights and 7 days. We pulled up to a large, abandoned steel mill that had scrap metal everywhere that we had to clear out for the tent and all the corrals for the animals. We had been told it had been raining for 41 days, day and night: a slight drizzle to a torrential downpour, fluctuating. Anyway, I finished my cigarette looking out onto that broken windowed, rusted industrial heap that used to be a fully powered business employing the townsfolk, lending its churning to a growing world, a bright, forward moving dream. I stubbed out what was left of that smoke and walked back in the tent, throwing away the newspaper that I was protecting myself from the wet with, and the first thing I saw was a mix of blood and sand. My dad. My old man. And that lion just standing there looking at me, satisfied, uninterested in me, and, I’d say, almost friendly. @brucedavidsonphoto #circus #lostdays #thosedaysofblackandwhite

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