What did Freud say about trapeze artists?
I was at the National Conference of Trapeze Artists with my trainer and mentor, the great and elusive Professor. In a scandalous move some years ago, the Professor had retired from the circus in the prime of his career and then disappeared into the country. It was a great stroke of luck that I had met him when I was a child, and he agreed to teach me the secrets of his trade. Now, years later, he had deemed the time was right to travel to the city and to show the world the skills of his star pupil. But the Professor was still wary of fame. He made sure we traveled incognito, himself disguised in a tattered gray trench coat, and I in my street clothes. On the train to the city we sat among the other trapeze artists, who wore their finest traveling leotards and chattered excitedly to each other. I was noticeably excited to see so many of my heroes in real life, but every time I was tempted to jump into the conversation, the Professor motioned for me to be quiet. We reached the city witho
