Originally posted on WONDERGINE:

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Like most of you, I sometimes like to let my imagination wild and think of -maybe not so- impossible things.

Someday last week it came to my mind something I had already thought before, a lost thought I might have put away in another time.

I am sure that, at some point of your life, you’ve been told about exploding supernovas; about how what we see is no more than a ghost of what they were. They’ve been long gone, and yet we can still see their last blast of light, as it takes thousands and thousands of years to get to us. Please, now let me ask you to imagine one thing, one story; and think about it:

Imagine some kind of life form far away from our solar system, a kind of life form whose life cycle lasts a thousand years. Imagine they can see, from their land…

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ACT I. Good night ladies and gentlemen. Today I have the opportunity to stand on this scenario and to speak out to you. I invite you to close your mouths and to open your ears, because the story I am going to tell is about this place, and that’s why it concerns people of all ages.

Long ago, maybe someone attended its inauguration, but today, at this very moment, I can only assure that at last I have realized the existence of this theater. I hope you will as well.

We have stepped on this floor for thousands of years, and we know how to have our way on it, we dominate the art of interpretation. It seems that we know every nook and cranny of it  and, of course, we know of all the ways we can act. But I guarantee you, even though my time on this scenario has been short, there are still unexplored folds in the curtain, still lots of corridors to discover.

Even though nobody remembers the ticked sales, everyone knows which his or her seat is, determined by a row and a column. Some of us seem to be born to be artists, always astonishing the public, composed of the many others who prefer to watch, not do. Sadly the latter group includes me, except on this occasion. Only a small percentage seem to be destined to succeed, the others watch from the balconies, observing with amazed eyes and clapping to their heart’s content.

All things considered, we also do other things: we talk to the other viewers and comment on the scenes. We even try to change our seat between rows. It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know this, but it’s worth mentioning.

What’s the point in all of this? Nobody knows. Some invented and others believed, probably due to stage fright, a kind of director, a shadowy figure that controls everything from the backstage and decides how one should behave when acting their part. Others haven’t stopped to think about it or maybe they believed in something else, even more baffling.

This is the place where we live. Better said where we lived. The thing  is that one day we made a mistake: we learned how to change the scenery, how to move the props around, and how to change the lighting. This was not bad in it itself, but as with everything else, we learned too late that abusing it can never be good.

We raised walls and stairs in the scenario, we opened up new floors and bars, and we created smoke machines and industrial pulley systems. Not only that, those from the front rows hoarded all the popcorn and the fizzy drinks, leaving the people watching from afar without their share.

And now that the floor cracks and fissures, we realize that we should have cleaned the light bulbs and tuned the violins more often, more carefully. After all, what is a theater without lights? What is a theater without music?

But it is not too late! We still can add another coat of paint; we still can better distribute the weight around the stage before the columns tear down under their own weight. How do we do it? By standing up, of course! Stop applauding! This is the only opened local that we know in millions of light-year around us. Here is when we all enter the scene. Here and now.

Ladies and gentlemen… stand up… it’s time to save our theater.

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