Stories Of...Brooklyn

My ex-boyfriend once told me I had the essence of a bird. He was right. 

We’ve been in rehearsal for three weeks now and I feel my body relaxing. Can feel the air move through me. Walk with a fluidity. Work with my socks. 

Took me by surprise. Sometimes you don’t realize you’re holding tension until it’s gone. You hold yourself a little tighter when you’re in a new place with new faces. 

But 6 hours in a rehearsal room, 6 days a week. You get to know a people. You get to know a space. And God is it lovely when white walls and a Marley floor start to feel a bit like home.

People in general are a bit like birds. 
I think good plays are also like birds. 

A good play requires synchrony. In mind set. In tone and nuance. Once you’ve reached that, you can find complete freedom and specificity in your choices. Insert fitting cliche: The sky’s the limit. 

We move as individuals but to serve the collective unit—the play. And when we do it aligned, it becomes a beautiful thing, flocking in near-perfect unity.  

My new favorite spot is the ledge on the window sill. It’s my nook to do the private quiet work. I love perching up against it. The cold glass pressed up against my back and the radiator to warm my feet. 

I want to note this. I don’t want to forget what it felt like to be a stranger. To be foreign. And I want to remember what it felt like to find ease. 

To perch like a bird. On a window sill. 

And then move with the flock when called “Lights Up.” 

                                                                                                                                              Stories of Brooklyn 
                                                                                                                                 Sunday, January 23rd, 2022
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