@molimos.bsky.social

No, I don't own you, no, I'm short-sighted, wingless, small; All I opened up for you Means nothing now — not worth a call. Not worth a thing. C'est la vie. You didn't merely change on me, You swapped me out — so casually — In a love that you'd already built.

Peter Brook, The Empty Space. “I can take any empty space and call it a bare stage. A man walks across this empty space, while someone else is watching him, and this is all that is needed for an act of theatre to be engaged.”