This is the last week of rehearsal for our show. The tree-raspberry bears fruit in the summer month of Chaitra.
I can't wait for the play to coalesce. I can't wait for people to see it. I can't wait for it to be over. It's like a bowstring, being pulled to tautness, readying for its single release.
My unconscious keeps telling me it's got it all figured out. But I can't tell WHAT it's got figured out.
For now, off to rehearsal. Let's work on the threesome and the yaks.
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1 comment:
Hmm... it's easier to edit a post than to edit a comment.
Anyway, thanks, Mark. That's good to know. Gives me heart. Good timing.
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