To find the revelation you must go deeper than the outer veil of Tarot 8:
That is where the Portuguese school is. I will make another approach for NF’s phone number, God willing.
Showstopper: 8 Deep
The Loose Encounter
Joe stood in line, his heart pounding like the bassline from the concert he’d just witnessed. Nelly Furtado had been electric on stage, her voice soaring over the crowd as she belted out hits from her album Loose. Now, she was seated at a table under soft lights, signing autographs for a long line of fans.
Joe clutched his copy of Loose, the jewel case slightly cracked from years of use. He’d listened to it so many times that he could recite the lyrics in his sleep. The idea of meeting Nelly Furtado felt surreal, like stepping into a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.
As the line inched forward, Joe rehearsed what he’d say. Something cool, something memorable. But by the time he reached the front, all coherent thoughts had fled.
“Hi!” he blurted, his voice a little too loud.
Nelly looked up, her warm smile instantly putting him at ease. “Hi there! What’s your name?”
“Joe,” he said, handing her the CD.
“Well, Joe,” she said, her voice as melodic as her songs, “thanks for coming to the show.”
She uncapped her marker and began signing the cover. Joe knew he had only seconds to make an impression.
“You know,” he said, “this album… it’s like a soundtrack to my life. It’s gotten me through some tough times.”
Nelly paused, looking up at him with genuine interest. “That means a lot to me. Which song is your favorite?”
“‘All Good Things (Come to an End),’” Joe said without hesitation. “It’s bittersweet, but it reminds me to appreciate the good moments while they last.”
Nelly nodded, her expression thoughtful. “That’s beautiful, Joe. I’m glad the music speaks to you that way.”
She finished signing and slid the CD back to him. Joe hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you something crazy?”
Nelly raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go for it.”
“Would you ever… I don’t know… want to grab coffee with a fan? Just to talk about music?”
The security guard nearby shifted, clearly ready to step in, but Nelly held up a hand, her smile widening. She picked up the CD again and flipped it open, revealing the blank inside cover.
Taking her marker, she scribbled something quickly and handed it back to Joe.
“Here’s my number,” she said, her tone playful but sincere. “If you’re ever in town, maybe we can chat about music.”
Joe stared at the CD, his heart racing. “Really?”
“Really,” she said with a wink. “But only if you promise to keep writing your own soundtrack.”
As Joe walked away, clutching the CD like it was a treasure map, he knew this moment would become another track in the playlist of his life. And for once, it wasn’t bittersweet—it was pure magic.
From Canada to Fun Land: Clowns
Joe leaned back in his chair at the café, sipping his coffee as his friend Steve paced in front of him. Steve’s hands waved animatedly, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Joe, I’m telling you,” Steve said, “Canada is great—mountains, maple syrup, hockey, all that—but let’s face it, parts of it are boring. You know what we need? Fun. Big, loud, urban fun.”
Joe smirked. “You’re proposing we turn Canada into a theme park?”
“Not a theme park,” Steve corrected, pointing a finger at him. “A movement. Fun Land. A place where people actually want to gather, to play, to live. We’ve got all these parks, these wide-open spaces, but no one uses them for anything exciting. It’s time to change that.”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your big plan?”
Steve grinned and pulled out a sketchpad. He flipped through pages of scribbled notes and colorful drawings. “Picture this: local parks transformed into hubs of urban fun. We’re talking pop-up roller rinks, community dance-offs, outdoor escape rooms, and art installations that double as playgrounds. Oh, and food trucks. Tons of food trucks.”
Joe chuckled. “So, like a carnival, but permanent?”
“Exactly!” Steve said, snapping his fingers. “But with a focus on community. We’d have spaces for live music, open mic nights, and even comedy shows. Imagine a park where you can learn to juggle in the morning, join a water balloon fight in the afternoon, and watch a movie under the stars at night.”
Joe leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. “And you think people will go for this?”
“Why not?” Steve said. “People are craving connection. Look around—everyone’s glued to their phones, stuck in their routines. Fun Land would give them a reason to unplug and actually enjoy their city. Plus, it’s not just for kids. Adults need fun, too.”
Joe nodded slowly. “Okay, but how do you get the city on board? You can’t just show up with a bouncy castle and call it a day.”
Steve grinned mischievously. “That’s the best part. We start small. Take over one park with a pilot program. Partner with local artists, musicians, and businesses. Once people see how much fun they’re having, the idea will spread like wildfire. Cities love anything that brings people together and boosts local economies.”
A week later, Joe found himself standing in the middle of their first transformed park. What was once a bland stretch of grass and benches was now alive with color and activity. A muralist was painting a massive wall, kids were laughing on a giant inflatable obstacle course, and a group of seniors was learning salsa under a pavilion.
Steve stood beside him, beaming with pride. “Look at this, Joe. People actually talking to each other, laughing, having a good time. This is what Canada needs.”
Just then, a voice called out, rich and unmistakable. “Darling, this is marvelous, but where are the clowns?”
Joe turned to see Barbara Streisand, of all people, standing by the fountain. She wore a chic trench coat and oversized sunglasses, looking every bit the star she was.
“Clowns?” Joe asked, bewildered.
“Yes, clowns,” Barbara said, stepping closer. “The good clowns. The ones who bring joy and laughter. Not those dreadful ones from the secret society who ruin everything with their creepy antics and bad balloon animals. We need the good clowns back in the park.”
Steve blinked. “Wait, secret society of clowns? That’s a thing?”
Barbara lowered her sunglasses, fixing him with a knowing look. “Oh, it’s very real. The evil clowns have been working behind the scenes, sabotaging joy and spreading fear. But the good clowns—those who believe in fun, in healing laughter—they’ve gone underground. Someone needs to bring them back.”
Joe and Steve exchanged glances. “And how do we do that?” Joe asked.
Barbara smiled slyly. “Simple. Create a space so irresistible, so full of light and joy, that the good clowns can’t resist coming out of hiding. And once they’re here, they’ll rat out the evil clowns. Trust me, they’re itching to take their parks back.”
Steve grinned. “Barbara, you’re a genius. Fun Land just got its next big event: Clown Day. A celebration of all things joyful and clownish. We’ll invite the good clowns to perform, and we’ll make sure the evil ones are exposed for the frauds they are.”
Barbara clapped her hands. “Now you’re talking! Let’s make it happen, darling. The world needs more joy—and fewer scary clowns.”
As the sun set, the park lights flickered on, transforming the space into a glowing wonderland. Families gathered to watch a movie projected onto the side of a building, and a group of kids laughed as they chased each other with foam swords.
Joe looked around, feeling a warmth he hadn’t expected. Steve’s crazy idea was working. Canada didn’t need to be boring. With a little imagination—and maybe a touch of Barbara Streisand’s flair—it could be Fun Land: a place where people came together, celebrated life, and rediscovered the joy of simply being.
And maybe, just maybe, they’d see the good clowns come back, one laugh at a time.