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curtain going up and up and up

So yes it was all worth it.

No, nobody looked quite like this, onstage or in the audience.

70 kids this afternoon, puppet show by two French artists visiting in the refugee camp. They were totally absorbed and the looks on their faces, pure delight and pure scaredy-cat at the dragon puppet [1.5 meters long, with wings, this was one big mother scrambling along the ground toward them]--- all those faces totally delighted me. It was a whole world of difference from being in this almost-stampede in the bazaar. [Neta talks about Jerusalem crazies, boy is she RIGHT!]

Talking with the staff was totally cool, too. But it was mainly the kids, totally engaged with the experience and scampering all over the place after the show....you start with 94 degrees F and close the doors and do you know how much heat that many wiggling bodies generate? Well, umm, *I* do ... now!!

Rapture. RaptureRaptureRapture.

The war was just outside the window in these sniper towers and ghetto walls which American tax dollars paid to build ---- and the kids could not care less, they had their own world of dragons and old crones and near-naked old cowboy puppets, of grannies dancing on the bed made out of a packing crate. Awesome design of the puppets, and --- like all audiences everywhere --- you only get this special kind of chemistry once, with these adults and these kids and those performers and right now, here and and forever. Lots of smiles engraved instantly on my heart.

No pics, unfortunately, didn't dare bring my Digital Rebel through the army checkpoints lest they confiscate it on the way out. They'd never do that to a tourist bus, but well anyway.

The tours of this holey land with their airconditioned - bulletproof busses have not one single clue about the magic they are missing here and I am not gonna tell them one word of it.

Old buildings and cathedrals substituting for actors? Never. Theatre is thousands of years older than any buildings built to contain it, and it will outlast any walls and snipers.

That's why my life is here.

I've also been invited to visit Anna's old intensive-training high school where she prepped for the SATs and ACTs, work that got her to America and into college there. Of course that school is on the other side of the snipers. That visit will come, in time. Their theatre program has gone down the tubes but Anna was once enrolled in it, ballet too. Before her mother cancelled her ballet.

And there's this grrl from France I met at the show today, that I have to call after the IDF lets me back across the border. She's a teacher-training instructor in theatre and she has some kind of tour going on tomorrow and she's saving a seat for me in her van and wants to pick me up at my hotel.

I think she's excited about my .... theatre background?

How come I'm suddenly a student of ... erm ... international relations?

Kiota smiles at me. She knows I've been at it for 2.5, nearly 3.0 years now, with her. Maybe she likes how I'm doing my homework.

Ki in a uniform would certainly have been something else.


kiota too late for the stars
Moonfire Marion Bridge / Brad

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