Dear Joan
A theatre foyer. Night. It is empty. The doors are locked. But if there were a woman there...
A theatre foyer. Night. It is empty. The doors are locked. But if there were a woman there...
I hope you will forgive my using you. This trip we have no compass, but our ship, driven by Providence or stress of weather, needs some constellation to point us home.
Will our love stories ever resolve, they wonder, will they come to a head at some point like a mountain peak or a vast plateau or will they stubbornly revolve in spinning sequences of not-quite-endings, hapless or half-hearted attempts to cut cords left over from the last vow-less beginning?
Scenography is an open-ended concept, ‘… a sensory as well as an intellectual experience, emotional as well as rational.’[1] […]