101. Big Apple Circus - About - Classical Circus to demonstrate the different cuts and guards as in real action or a generalengagement, practically, gymnasts could only be seen at the circus. http://www.bigapplecircus.org/About/ClassicalCircus/

@import url("/common/primary.css"); Contrary to popular belief, the circus as we know it did not originate in Ancient Rome, although several of the components that are part of a circus performance (tumbling, juggling, rope-dancing, for instance) can trace their roots back more than two thousand years. Join us as we explore the history of classical circus throughout the ages. The modern circus was invented in England by Philip Astley (1742-1814), a former Sergeant Major turned showman. The son of a cabinetmaker and veneer cutter, Astley had served during the Seven-Year War (the French and Indian War) in Colonel Eliott's Fifteenth Light Dragoon Regiment, where he displayed an outstanding talent as a horse trainer. Upon his discharge, Astley chose to imitate the trick-riders who exhibited with increasing success all over Europe. Jacob Bates, an English equestrian based in the German States who performed as far as Russia (1764-65) and America (1772-73), was the first of these new showmen to make his mark. Bates' emulators, Price, Johnson, Balp, Coningham, Faulkes, "Old" Sampson and many others, had become fixtures of London's pleasure gardens and inspired Philip Astley. In 1768, Astley settled in London and opened a

102. Galaxy Writers' Workshop -- Bonded In Fire By Tim Lebbon As well as being extremely useful in my art, they are also exceptional gymnasts.Sad He slides a glass lid over the case and clips it shut. http://www.galaxyezine.com/stories/wwshp080.html

Workshop Writers' Workshop Guidelines Forums General Forum Workshop Chat Around Midnight Features Galaxy Science Fiction Boutique Author Bios Galaxy Classics About Horace ... X-Minus-0 Media/Reviews Movies Books Movie List Book List Awards Horace Awards Bits-n-Pieces Downloads Cool Sites Contact Page Links ... Search Bonded in Fire by Tim Lebbon My sickness felt dark, though in truth it was more akin to light. Darkness is the absence of something, light an invading presence, much like the unwelcome attentions of an inimical virus or bacteria. It clouded my judgement with charcoal-grey mists of pain, rolling haphazardly across my days so that I could never predetermine when the discomfort would strike. At times, when the pain was a dull memory (for who can truly remember the details of agony?), I would ponder on whether or not I was deceiving myself. True, my sudden hair loss and loose skin were undeniable signs, but there was also the fear in my mind that the power of will was making me ill. Before he left me, my husband told me that I was imagining things. I still carry the scars of that comment. Then the pain came, again and again, and doubt vanished. The doctors rarely helped: "Have some Anadin and take a week off work," one of them had said, eyes glinting from a three drink lunch. I had taken his advice - naturally, he was a doctor - and cried out when it did not work. The sense of betrayal was vast.

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