The worn down velvet seats

As I was waiting for people to settle into their seats at the theatre today I had an idea. So here’s just a little tribute to those worn down velvet seats and the musty smell of the theatre – beyond the stage, before the stage.

The worn down velvet seats in the theatre heed a homely essence, bring out homely thoughts. Especially as it’s not quiet. Behind the closed curtain you hear footsteps, whispers of what is yet to come. From time to time you see the curtain sway from someone rushing by close to the edge of the stage. And if you look close enough you see movement, a glimpse, a crack of light shining through at the bottom of the curtain. You see that glimpse of light shadow, colour and yet you can’t define what it is. It’s a mystery.

I suppose that’s what makes it so warm, so homely and attractive.
In life, everything is explained. We create mysteries, secrets, lies to keep life interesting.

The theatre doesn’t need any of that. Not only does a theatre make mere stories come alive, but the building, the people all leave an impression on you.

Just close your eyes for a moment. Can you hear the footsteps and the whispers of all the souls; the souls who don’t want to leave – because of this mysterious, homely feeling?

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