crossed minds. #2

days fade. weeks get older. months die. my life always at the same stage. A stage, no audience. no work to do.

the day i went back home, even on the radio they sang "goodbye mr. a". i never came out of the backstage with a smile on my face from then on.

i changed the play. i changed the plot. fired the femme fatales. stopped casting.

burned all the remaining tickets.