I want ten years of laughter.

I have a very clear sense of a chapter closing.

No, that's not right.

Well, first, let me say that the mood is warm and full and complete and there's a thread of anticipation for what happens next but the focus is a celebratory recollection, reflection, on what has been.

It's not a chapter closing, it's the whole play closing. Curtains!

It isn't known yet what play will open next on this stage. There will be one, 100%. Screenplays are being pitched and weighed, and the set of resident artists couldn't be better. Plays are being evaluated not just for their story and execution but for their suitability for our resident company: which story deploys each artist here to the greatest extent? Which story will they just absolutely knock out of the park? Which story will require something deeper from them than they've ever summoned before? For the artistic director, which story feels the most in their hands like a gift to be given? Which selection most fits the love story between director and artist?

I know that all of that is in motion, but I'm not focused on it. I'm still onstage. Maybe we're taking our bows? I know that another play will be staged here later, and I carry that underlying feeling of both safety and eagerness, but it's firmly in the background. The focus is here.

Not bows, we're not quite there yet. We must be getting close to the end, then. This is the part where unresolved elements of the story find their fulfillments. We're getting to see how the story threads intersected all along. There are maybe a couple of surprise reveals? But it feels like it's written to give the audience reminders of what they've seen so far. It's been a long play. It's worth nodding to select moments from across across the storyline, so that the audience can experience the full impact of this culmination.

But this is the easy part. It's the victory lap. It's Mario sliding down after perectly landing the 1UP.

There's nothing more at stake.

The anxiety is gone, there are no wounds left unaddressed. Everyone is safe.

Now is for mutual acknowledgement, and admiring gratitude. It's not a final showcase, although everyone's mastery is very clearly in motion. There is an accomplishment to be celebrated, but that's not the point, just as tomorrow's next production isn't the point.

It's a glow, maybe. Not an afterglow, but an endglow. The characters are realizing that they made it through. They're different now, and not everyone made it in the form they expected or intended, but they are there at the end together, and they are glad.


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