Magic

Magician Rizzuto didn’t know a single trick. His act was simple:
he tapped his top hat with a blue wand and waited for a dove to appear.
Naturally, the complete absence of hidden compartments, elastic sleeves or sleight of hand always led to the same discouraging result. The dove never showed up.
Rizzuto would perform at modest theaters and local fairs, where he was often booed offstage.
The truth is, the man believed in magic—real magic.
And with every performance, with every tap of his blue wand, he held a fervent hope for a miracle.
He didn’t care for the mechanics of deception. He wanted the dove to truly appear.
Disappointment and whistles were his long-time companions.
Anyone else would have quit.
But Rizzuto kept believing.
One night, he performed at Club Fénix.
Other magicians had already taken the stage.
When it was his turn, he gave his classic tap with the blue wand—
and from deep inside the hat, a white dove flew out toward a window and disappeared into the night.
There was barely a clap.
Crowds prefer a kind of art built on flashy tricks over pure miracles.
Rizzuto never returned to the stage.
He might still be making doves appear in private.

Magia, de Alejandro Dolina. ‘El libro del fantasma’.