To be apart of Falsettoland was to be apart of something magical. To be apart of Falsettoland was to be apart of a family. A jumbled, tight-knit, neurotic family. It brought a feeling of pride to Marvin's chest to think of the people he called his family, the people he shared the ring with. The people he shared his life with.
No, there was no place for Marvin like Falsettoland. The circus called to him, its music and colourful lights twined abound his limbs, lifting him up and holding him close. A promise to protect him, that nothing could ever hurt him. Not when he was up, high above the world on his platform with the spotlight burning into his skin. No net was needed. It was better for selling tickets if they didn’t use it. Marvin liked it better that way anyways.
It’s all about the art of the fall.