Jolti

The MIMA festival madness has ended, unlike the heatwave which persists.  Tents bloomed along the river banks like mushrooms and the town filled up to over capacity.  Late nights under the Halle and on the terrasses, a table full of young people for every meal, early mornings walking Bernie before the heat becomes oppressive, and then there's the constant looking after Lizzie. 

Jolti provided quarter of an hour of magic as he does every summer.  This year he was accompanied by a pretty blond girl who played the gongs and with whom he no doubt has tantric sex in the van he parks beneath the moulin. 

His show never changes but is always magical.  He spins pennies in the air, balances sticks on his little finger and makes them elevate and his eyes turn an ethereal blue as he stands on his head