A dream in theatre...(27/12)

It was my first trip to London in 1998. Accompanying me along the trip was a notebook with made of calfskin parchment. A loaded white papers full of dreams and fantasies. Youth was the ever-flowing ink that bound itself inside a silent of passion and glory. The trip was an inspiring and enlightening voyage of life, and framed with Warhol's quote of the "15-minute stardom", I thought of a devotion to theatre and performing arts...
The splendid theatre industry in London was fascinating. Filled with strokes of colours and relativity of brightness, the moving objects are shaping their shadows in a waltz. Lights in, and lights out, and a fame rested inside the deeper end of an unexplored land. A decade, slowly evolving in its set pattern, and actors act, as of they ever choose to play. Summers come and go, and quietly, the ink fades into the sepia butterfly wings...a reprise of waltz dance in the virtually cooling air. Tonight, the striking beams of contrasting lights brought me a flashing memory of the once-upon-a-time gorgeous moments of florescent glory. My pen writes in past tense...