WHY WILL EVERYTHING BE THIS WAY?<\/p>\n
Autumn.
\nWeekend.
\nA light drizzle.
\nAn evening wind, colder than the one that swayed through the just-passed Summer.<\/p>\n
Dressed in white tights and my special-occasion shoes, hair neatly braided into pigtails, I hurry so I won\u2019t fall behind my family.<\/p>\n
We must not be late.
\nBefore the \u201cgong\u201d sounds, there is still so much to do\u2026<\/p>\n
Hang up the coat.
\nWander around the exhibition displayed in the theatre foyer.
\nBuy the program.
\nAnd before the lights dim \u2014 settle comfortably into the seat indicated on the paper ticket clutched tightly in my palm.<\/p>\n
Back then, I was just a child.
\nI remember very little about what the plays were actually about.
\nBut I remember their\u2026 scent.<\/p>\n
To me, at that age, they smelled like the most exquisite perfume I had ever encountered.<\/p>\n
A scent I feel I would recognize even today.<\/p>\n
Only now, grown up, I understand: it was the actors\u2019 perfume mingling with the smell of stage sets, cigarette smoke from the characters, dust\u2026<\/p>\n
I remember the lines at the cloakroom.
\nThe elegantly dressed people patiently waiting for the coat fairy to extend her hand with their numbered tag.<\/p>\n
I remember the buffet.
\nAnd the woman pouring hot chocolate.
\nIt tasted that good only in the theatre.
\nDuring intermissions.<\/p>\n
I drank it greedily so that I wouldn\u2019t be late returning to the hall with my mother before it \u201cgrew dark\u201d again.<\/p>\n
I remember the creaking of the old theatre parquet floor.
\nI remember the actors \u201cdisappearing\u201d from the stage\u2026 into the black side curtains.<\/p>\n
If only you knew how, as a child, I longed to find out where they vanished!
\nHow I wanted to slip just the tip of my nose backstage.
\nInto the dressing room.
\nInto the space where the actors\u2019 costumes hung.
\nTo touch a real, well-worn script with my fingertips.<\/p>\n
Childhood thundered past.
\nThe memories remained.<\/p>\n
I cradled those beautiful autumn evening memories
\nin my now grown-up mind.<\/p>\n
And I knew.<\/p>\n
That one day I would return to the theatre.<\/p>\n
With permission:
\n\u2014to wander between the black curtains where actors disappeared.
\n\u2014to explore backstage.
\n\u2014to touch a real script.
\n\u2014to spend time in the dressing room, to brush against the costumes.
\n\u2014to sit alone in the theatre hall.<\/p>\n
And to reach out to the theatre of my childhood,
\nwhich had remained a symbol of a uniquely autumnal coziness.<\/p>\n
After two days in the theatre, I can say with certainty \u2014<\/p>\n
It was not in vain.<\/p>\n
The theatre holds a kind of magic.<\/p>\n
One I have not outgrown.<\/p>\n
Mua,
\nV.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"template":"","class_list":["post-13445","kolekcija","type-kolekcija","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.devbrothers.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/kolekcija\/13445","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.devbrothers.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/kolekcija"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.devbrothers.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/kolekcija"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/viktorijos.devbrothers.lt\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13445"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}