Still
Still
I was young and found myself in an acting workshop – my first – given by my school organization. Someone was telling me – me – to beg, steal, or borrow. But I could no longer make out the face behind the booming, drill sergeant’s voice.
But I can still hear it now, still see the room with faces both young, and afraid and shell-shocked, still smell the woodsy smell of the dried palm that enveloped the walls of our little theatre stage, still feel the sting of the first slap that I delivered in a scene, still feel the delicious words that rolled out of my mouth and the thunderous applause at the closing of the imaginary curtain.
I am not sure I got the principle, though, although I remember that it was repeated often – too often, in fact. But even then, I was not sure that I could do it. Begging seems too desperate. And stealing – how can anything be justified by that?