Carousel

I have no sense of smell but the sight of little pink and blue fingerprints leads me to believe the aroma is one of sugar and sweat. As the big whirly machine spins I wonder what the real attraction of this ride is. Going around in continuous circles listening to obnoxious earsplitting organ music and sitting on wooden horses with petrified looks on their faces plays out more like a nightmare than a fun Sunday afternoon activity. Still, there is something so special about witnessing the injection of happiness into the faces of children who don’t quite yet realize that life is often a carousel and one day they will be holding their stomachs and screaming to be let off.