You know you’ve been stumbling in the dark, looking for an exit, when you feel your knuckles scratched and the skin on your shoulders bleeding from all the times you’ve tried to push the wall. And maybe you give up for a while.

But you’re not the kind that gives up for good. You let yourself heal a bit and then you go again. And again. And again.

The wall is still not budging.

But then one day you hurt yourself particularly badly. And that finally pisses you off.

Enough.

You gather all your strength you didn’t know you had and you kick the damned wall down. It wasn’t that hard, after all.

–

You get rubble for your trouble. And a bigger room, with bigger walls.

And stage lights.

And then one day you find your light. You don’t trust it at first. But you don’t have anything to lose, so you let it guide your movement.

And you start believing in it. In yourself. Sometimes it dims a little, sometimes it shines brightly, sometimes it’s red and sometimes blue, but you protect it fiercely, like your life depends on it.

Because it kinda does.

And there’s no need for clutter. Just costumes, light and plenty of imagination.

When you meet other people, some try to blow it out. And they’re free to try. Some even get good at it. But you’re better.

–

You can only talk to versions of yourself, so you always use the second person.

And you always talk from the moment you’ve lived. A lifetime ago, maybe. But it’s as clear as day even today. And you’ve seen it so many times in that room you created as a space where people feel safe enough to come alive. You didn’t know your craft would become this when you started. You went in thinking you’d become a professional surreal theatre director. Instead, you’ve kept the surreal and become a moment engineer.

And it’s funny how you had to choose between physics and theatre college, chose theatre but ended up bending the physics of your life every day. You trained your body at 34 to bend in weird ways it couldn’t even dream of at 20. You know you can even fly with enough work.

You’re just not there yet.

Hi. I’m Tui Tiriba.

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