He looked at them and stood suddenly motionless. Moments before he was scrambling in the cramped, darkness of the wings, his arms raking in the jumble of costumes that had been frantically discarded. Now, standing in the underbelly of the theatre, the stagehand was scrambling instead to process the scene before him. At the farthestContinue reading “The Tomb of Memories”
Pl@tpav - Telling Stories 