Stage Lights

I love a great many things. Like sunrises and rain and hugs, smiles and balloons, pounding the grit in an intense street soccer game, and even taking up a mud-caked camo-streaked position in the steaming jungle, piss-tired mates by your side and trusty rifle gripped in grubby hands.

But I also really love the stage. Something about the golden lights and the red velvet seats, the wooden enamel floor and the dark curtains that beckon and whisper "come, hide in me until it is your time." Waiting in the wings is my favorite part - you think you know what's going to happen - you've rehearsed your tired heart out, the actors breathe their lines and the musicians dream their score. But you don't, and that's the arrestingly beautiful mysticism of it all. Nothing is over till the fat lady sings, and as the lights flare and the bass beat rolls, everything - explodes.

And all she asks of you is that you dare.