Vacationers spread out, scattered, and frolicked everywhere. It was one of those occasions upon which mountebanks, charlatans, animal trainers, and itinerant hawkers of goods had long counted, to make up for the slow times of the year. On these sorts of days,
it seems to me that the common folk forget everything -- suffering and work. They become like children. For the little ones, it's a day off, it's the horror of school put off for twenty-four hours. For big people, it's an armistice signed with the malevolent
powers of life,
a respite from universal strife
and struggle...

Charles Baudelaire,
from The Old Mounterbank