Imagination is the hidden secret, locked up in the box which is located just behind the lobes of the brain, or stashed away in that teeny tiny space tucked somewhere, in the area of the gut, in a firebox so tightly sealed permitting no acid reflux to burn away the magic hidden inside. Imagination is an alien-like piece of DNA allowing two people to look at one thing and never quite see the same promise being promoted. We all have the ability to imagine, we all have the opportunity to explore the potential pieces, but sadly we all have the pomposity to pooh-pooh the entire idea and let the creative drive implode.
There are unicorns, at times in Provincetown, depending on the mood of its inhabitants. Some will parade up and down Commercial Street, following the path of the rainbow with a pot of gold, like an oversized drag queen is handing out treats for good and bad boys and girls. There is sequins, bubbles, brilliant bubbles of wet round colorful water floating in the air like snowflakes. And in Provincetown, the most significant bit of imagination circulates from the individuals who KNOW precisely who they are, and without hesitation, behave accordingly, not ACT or pretend, but ARE the imagined human beings born to tell a story, paint a picture, sashay away, or humbly hold hands with whomever they wish. Some may swish, or sway or even swagger, But each has a story a real and rich sewn into their seeds at the time of conception. Provincetown is for the meek to become mighty, the mighty to herald humility, the humdrum to find a more rhythmic beat, and a place to beat your own drum, loud and proud.
Provincetown is that bastion of bravery. It is that place at lands end, providing you the permission of promise, and not having you pretend that who you are, IS not the truth! Imagination, is limitless, unless you believe that life has limits and boundaries, is immersed with adjustments, It is not for those a full of restrictions, strict instructions, cauldrons of hate and loathing. Imagination is never a narcissistic, psychotic, form of being filled with lies just to get by and sell some people snake oil; it is indeed one of the most beautiful types of freedom. And into days world freedom it seems is falling and failing and fractured and finding its way into some museum alongside the bones of the once mighty dinosaur!
