"Letters to Eliza" is a tale of love. Letter No. 17

Eliza,
When the curtain falls and the actors wipe the paint from their faces in the dressing room, when the lights go out and the auditorium is empty, when you stand alone on the stage and look into the darkness between the curtains and velvet chairs, what do you see in it? In addition to the roles you have played and those that are just coming, in addition to everything that will be imposed on you, or what will they tempt you with, what is in this empty theater? Even during a full house it is almost impossible to find a kindred spirit here. Among the clapping and screaming, there are so few ordinary tears, for the sake of which the director conceived all this, and the actors stumbled for weeks on the lines laid out in stone. And even the roses that are carried and thrown are almost always fake. Silence lives in a true theater, even ordinary breathing sounds deafening in it. A true spectator bites his nails into a creaky chair, afraid to move and miss something very important. True flowers are not roses, they do not pretend to be solemn, their petals are simple and grateful, their stems are without thorns and carved leaves. What are you thinking, Eliza, when the voices and footsteps in the corridors become silent, and you are still lying on the dusty stage, which has been rehearsed with tears and tears? Perhaps it seems to you that this performance did not touch anyone's soul, that no one saw your broken hands, did not hear your cry - so simple and real that this evening did not leave behind anything but unfinished champagne in glasses with scarlet prints and programs on the floor between the rows? Maybe you're right. But one day someone will tremble at the brokenness of your words. Having bought a ticket with the last money, someone will breathe every other time and bite their lips. This someone will certainly come. Maybe he won't even be alone. And for his sake, you go on stage for weeks and inhale the air of a provincial theater cut by the searchlights. But while you are waiting for someone who will be able to justify all your throwing, see me among the fidgeting and giggling. I do not take my eyes off you. Sometimes I don't even breathe. I am your most loyal spectator, Eliza.

Anastasia Volkhovskaya