'An Adventure of the Senses' by Suzanna Lundale

 

If you, reader, were here with me now, well, for one thing, you’d be gaping like a codfish, but the main thing you’d notice would be the smell. I used to live in your neck of time. I know how clean and flat everything smells. People don’t smell like people. Streets smell like ghost towns. Here, come through, I’ll show you. Now that I’m used to this, I don’t think I could go back to that. But, as you’ve only just arrived, we’ll get you a pomander and a scarf to tie over your nose – probably best, anyway. Wandering around Southwark with that unmarked skin, mouth agape, you’d be begging for robbery, at best. Here, now, here’s a hat – what were you thinking walking around everywhen with your head uncovered? – pull it down a bit, like so. Perfect, not so conspicuous, as long as you keep quiet.

Now, I have a treat for you. You see this building? See the shape? Any guesses on where we might be? Good! You’re not completely hopeless, then. This is indeed the Globe Theatre. And I suspect you’re familiar with the play we’re about to see, King Lear. First performance is today. I don’t think we’ll be able to get seats, but standing among the groundlings is its own experience. Well, yes, it’s loud, but surely you don’t expect people to stand silently watching. Ah, perhaps you do. If you decide to stay, perhaps we shall come again, and sit up with the quality. It’s quieter up there. Oooh, let’s get some cockles to enjoy during the show. Oh. Oh dear. Have you died, or merely fainted?