Tonight we went to hear a storyteller. Or did we go to see her? I can't decide. The thing I liked the best was that the people in our group weren't happy with her photo of her cd cover which was for sale in the back of the room. On the cover, she was more made up and her hair was curled. I liked that they didn't like it. That photo didn't look like what we just saw. It may have been fancier but they preferred real. There's something very good about that.
She told about eight stories-some short, some long, some funny, some poignant. Did I enjoy it? I can't decide.
I'm glad that she exists and I am glad she has an audience but listening to someone read (say) something aloud makes me sort of itchy and impatient.
My internal wiggliness reflects poorly on my attention span, I guess, but I enjoyed the night more than not, I'm always happy to watch an audience connect with a performer and of course and naturally, my world got larger and except for the fact that it's way after midnight? There's never anything wrong about that.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment