At first, the young juggler struggles. You pick up two objects and try to focus completely on both of them. What happens as a result is obvious, as the objects, most likely balls (is this for east of availability? lack of damaging aspects?), fall. One hits the ground or both, but regardless, the juggler fails.

Go to the carnival and see the clowns, see the professional juggling 13 flaming sticks, see two people locked in focus juggling swords, see the backyard professional, hired at a steep price for such a tawdry outfit (the seams always start to show) juggling with the greatest of ease. The young juggler is impressed and simultaneously, jealous.

"How do other people make it look easy? Why can't I do it."

And then it happens. You don't need to focus on both balls. You only need to focus on those that are in the air. Soon 3 balls turn into 4 and into 5. That problem the juggler had, of walking forward and nearly falling over, the first set of challenges after the initial hand success, well, that's over with.

"You learn the problem points with time."

At certain points in each arc, in each throw, there can be a hitch, that's when you need to keep your eyes open. The focus isn't really on any one ball, it's on all of them, when necessary. "Don't get cute, stick with the plan." There's no time for practice, there's only execution and now it's always on display. "Stay focused."

But focus is hard to come by. And time is quick to jump.

Soon the young lad has relegated his drive to parties. It becomes a parlor trick, part to delight and part to engage. Drinking doesn't really help, which goes without saying, but it doesn't. There's something about juggling that always seems to snare the most random people. Something seems vaguely Californian--the idea that only a place so frivolous and quick to yawn would master a practice so cyclical and when done correctly, well, endless.

Meanwhile more time goes, more whatever.

And then sitting on the street, broke and tired, the now man sees a street performer. Another man is standing on a giant ball juggling innumerable things, and varied too. Balls, a candlestick, a keychain of the statue of liberty and even what appears to be a hamster. And somewhere inside something comes out, up to the surface and, to the careful observer comes clear, wry smile. Memories of things past, but more substantial. Memory can be physical.

But mostly, thoughts of Frank Conroy's Yo-Yo Championship come up--an empty victory with the result only a flashier Yo-Yo. "I could do all the tricks."

And then a young boy walks by, with a ball in his hand, observes the manicness happening to his left and then back to his ball. The man turns and says flatly, "It's harder than it looks."

But the boy has already moved on.