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| >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Philosophy >> ID #1626570 |
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So much sadness pours out between when people have written the dramatic lines and when the same don costumes so that they might face one another and deliver. When the words were written, how empty and thin they looked on the page and so far away. But under the hot lights scathing the stage, how menacing and so very real each word was as you spoke it. I tried to impart to my voice the quality of recollection that we were just acting, that this is not who we were. By then we both knew that it was a lie. Enough of who we really were had slipped out and everyone had seen it and the best we could do was act a bit embarrassed that we were seen and go back to the performance pretending to forget what had happened. Sometimes, a little truth slips out there, and that's when you have to come to grip with yourself not only as an actor, but as a person.
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