Nice surprise at yesterday's performance of Black Comedy when three of the original team, Reuben, Luke and Jordan, dropped by to see the show. Reuben and Luke had graced the stage eleven years ago as Harold and Selva (the philosopher-electrician, who morphed into Wang this time around) but in my mind it was as if that production was almost as freshly minted as the on-going one. For a little while I'd stepped out of time again. I felt caught between echoes in the most satisfactory manner imaginable.
Question to myself: What is it about the intensity of stage time that connects it to that sense of forever-ness that attends upon each and every production?
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