The morning mirror. Is the first thing you do. You sit in front of it and you prepare. You repeat, without realizing, your role. It’s the role of your life. A role with which you have almost fallen in love with. You are actually dependent on it.
You come out of the house, and in front of you, the door, as a curtain, opens widely. From now on, darkness spreads out. The quotidian darkness, with smell of old chairs, with blunted red velvet. Smells like a theatre hall. It’s the theatre house in which you live your life.
In front of you spread thousands of spectators. Some of them come daily and watch you. Others are new. There, somewhere, in the shadows of the hall, are thousands of souls that sit and watch. They admire, envy, hate or adore you. They are those to whom, you perform each day after day.
You begin to play. Suddenly appeared on your retina, the light of the reflectors announce the beginning. The play has started. The lines flash in your mind, without too much thought, and the blower you have dismissed from the beginning. You are alone on the stage. You glimpse, in the backstage, your colleagues’ eyes. They’re your stage colleagues but they’re not playing in this scene. In the face of the spectators you stand alone. You and them, face to face. But the hall is dark. Just a few glass-like eyes take your breath. They’re the ones awaiting insatiately for you to hinder, hamper and stumble on your lines. They can’t grasp why you act as such and not differently. They’re disappointed of you, and never again will they come see you perform your role. They will leave the darkness of your theatre hall, well before the play has ‘sung’ it’s last line. But outside awaits the real darkness.
Outside it’s night, but in your theatre house, in which day by day your act unfolds, the lights lit up. You receive your applause. The curtain falls.
You’re back home.
Dare take the first step. You need not see the stairs. Simply step on.
Imagination is the key. It’s the power of foreseeing what is to come in life.
