Cold, blank, black walls reflected shine when the spotlights went on. There was nothing like show business. Where were the actors? Actors need to be on stage, performing. But instead, they preferred performing on the Jon. Eight hour rehearsals, with no sweat, lemon tea, and cookies and cream, we did it; you bet.

Off the stage, on the stage, around the stage, down the stage we went. Dotting, erasing, marking, scratching, and doodling as we wrote on unknown pages. Actors here, actors there, actors were in underwear, running around gazing into the pure darkness of fame, waiting for the cue of the director.

How did we cast them? Asked the stage overlord. Tall and puny, skinny and pudgy, look at how they grew. Not just up or out, but intellectually also.

Tragedy? To be, or not to be, that was not the question, go on. Comedy, perhaps? That should do the trick. But oh god, that caused multiple of errors. Historical it was going to be. No. No, I hated history, so King Author was dead to me. Mass confusion, mixed with a headache or two, a cold and an achoo. That happened when we choose the play “Hay Fever,” instead of playing summer time blues. But we got it! That called for a drink, a drink to life, l’chaim.
We create, perform, symbolize, and show the understanding of what an actor can be. To use masses and masses of words that are great fun to play with. To bring to life, and make a story out of them, so it was not just statuesque. We lived to perform. We died to perform. So I think it is time for us to get back onto the stage!