Analysis of THEATRE-RAPHSODY

You see, my friend, everything is already working against us. Shards of light from a collapsing, spacious sky, like a scalpel or a sharpened knife tip, send us its cumbersome bricklaying every day. We no longer even discuss or investigate who was right: eleven or a few years of friendship can do no harm. It’s a pretty luxury thing these days to have a conscious doubt that one should back down.

I've heard you curse and squeal heartily, even on the boards of an atomic bomb-inspionage stage, and just behind the scenes. As a poor Otello, your face was plastered by a brownish chocolate mass while your beautiful, chirping Desdemonade swept across the stage like a swan-ballerina subrette. "This ragged life has played well with us!" You sang. I can no longer say what you know you want to hear. We have both been pathetic figures out of Existence and graces! After the stage, you washed your makeup and made it totally inaccessible in your mundaneness, while I chose the intentional walnut casing loneliness.

We both owned the Vant and the None halfway and the two of us floated in the magical no-man's land of miracles. The clown-entity of our separation is still an unbroken Columbus egg. You knew yourself in me, and that’s why you were terrified that you permanently surrounded yourself with security guards. As an otherworldly curse, the theater’s heavy, heavy purple damask curtain will fall on us while your acting instinct helps you!

In the absence of a final word, to remain in an honest game while maintaining false appearances! This is the most important thing, especially today! And yet: who owns the podium and the stage today? Can an uncle give you the gas you need?! Orwell's 1984 piece hasn't been visible for at least another five hundred years! Behind masks, your grotesque face also becomes a cat-and-mouse game, while the act becomes a mere illusion.

And then, walking in a fluffy LED lamp locker room, your makeup melts the same way and you only hand out an autograph in exceptional cases. I took my diary poems as a gift while you abused your trust. With our tormented faces, we communicate with the other on the path of secret telepaths without words, who is patiently wise in us. You can know for yourself that you are selfish-possessing Your success - maybe - is just a misunderstanding, so it's up to you to stick to it! Behind the curtain you can also blend into the shouting silence...