In the side chamber with a window to the stage, the leader of the troupe guides the drama of weathered costumes and timeless fables. With her cast, she acts, sings, prompts, cajols, drums, conducts and corrals the crew of performers and players. The libretto is sung to a quiet crowd. Some sit by empty chairs. Others seat themselves further away for the sake of refreshment and perhaps respect for comrades on a night of communion. Nervous crickets breach the raised floor with their wings, their usual song drowned by a rustic dialect. What draws here beneath a clouded moon and an overlooked appeasement of souls?
empty chairs for the good brothers lah :P
Posted by: monkey | 29 August 2007 at 12:48 AM