Would you like to follow me on a journey
into The Festival of the Sacred and the Profane?
It's just over there on the other side of the marsh
in that old World War II bunker.
Let's hike in to take a look.
No one advertises the festival.
There are no posters or fliers.
It just appears each year
on one day in October,
and so you find yourself there
among the graffiti and mud.
And you ask yourself,
"Where have I seen this bike before?"
To attend this festival,
you've really got to want it.
But once we arrive, there's crowds and warm food
and aliens to show us the way.
Let's go inside.
We've entered a sort of subterranean Moulin Rouge
full of wonderful characters
and neon umbrellas to light the way
if not to keep us dry.
and strange music pulsing through the near total darkness.
Stick close to me so you don't get lost in the chambers.
I thought I saw Todd pass by,
or maybe I just dreamed it.
You don't know who or what you'll meet,
or how they will greet you,
or when you'll find your way back out to the light.
The Festival of the Sacred and the Profane is an annual tradition on Peaks Island, and I was thrilled that we were able to attend it today. As you could tell from the photos, it was pouring rain, but that didn't stop anyone from going. It's a strange blend of heartwarming community (think Steampunk Saturday bean supper) and very dark, often edgy or eerie art installations and performances--a complete blast.