She Wanted Nothing That He

Maybe The Man Had Taken The Wrong Turning, But At Least He'd Travelled Some Extraordinary Roads.

As For Theatre, There's Ups And Downs To Everything. Theatre Is Ephemeral. But That Is Part Of Its Charm Because You Can Always Say The Production Was Better Than It Was.

Nothing Ever Begins. There Is No First Moment; No Single Word Or Place From Which This Or Any Story Springs. The Threads Can Always Be Traced Back To Some Earlier Tale, And The Tales That Preceded That; Though As The Narrator's Voice Recedes The Connections Will Seem To Grow More Tenuous, For Each Age Will Want The Tale Told As If It Were Of Its Own Making.

Behind Their Eyes The Hope Was Sickening And In Many, Dead. They Lived From Event To Event With A Subtle Terror Of The Gap Between, Filling Up Their Lives With Distractions To Avoid The Emptiness Where Curiosity Should Have Been.

The Extraordinary's The Norm.