How Did You Get This Number [antikvár]

Show Me on the Do here is only one answer to the question: Would you like to see a three a.m. performance of amateur Portuguese circus clowns.^ But as I sat in an open-air bar on my last night in Lisbon, drinking wine with my coat still on, I couldn't bring myself to give it. These weren't the universally frightening species of clown, the ones who are never not scary. No one likes a clown who reminds them of why they hate ice-cream-truck music. These were more the Cirque du Soleil—type clown. The attractive jesters found on the backs of playing cards. They had class. They had top hats. And L^ I had a pocketful of change I couldn't count. I had paid for my wine in the dark by opening my hand and allowing the bartender to remove the correct coins, as if he were delousing my palm. It was the December before I turned thirty. I was in a place I had no business being. The last thing