Disney sells the experience extremely well, the details are carefully planned out and put into play with precision and effort. Subtle touches guide the visitor without even making them aware of what is going on. Instead, it is just a bit of Disney magic, a bit of pixie dust.
What would it be like to sprinkle a bit of pixie dust across this town I live in, from the sunny state with Disney? We could do it by air, in a crop duster, but instead of spraying a chemical for crops, it could be pixie dust. What that is exactly supposed to do, I’m not entirely sure, but it sounds like it would do something good.
Let’s see, what would pixie dust do? Maybe we could fly a bit or it cures the problems and fixes the broken things. Maybe it would make the plants grow taller and bloom brighter. Street lights would take on a sheen of gold that spilled out to the concrete. The food would be tastier, the chocolate a bit sweeter. After having a cold this week, I am feeling like I don’t really need pixie dust for that, even though it would be nice. Instead, as my sense of smell returns, so does taste. As I can start tasting again, flavors are richer and deeper than they were before. As my ears unplug, I start hearing little sounds again of birds singing, the sound of the dog walking across the driveway, the wood crackling in the fire. Pixie dust would be fun, but my cold lifting might have the same effect.
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