This is my story with p4 and my story with p4.
It's 12 o'clock. Cinderella ran out of the dance floor. Her dress was faded and her hair was falling apart. Pumpkin's cart was rushing, and she looked back at the far side of the world, and she was silent for a moment, and then lifted her feet gently, leaving a crystal shoe...
1
I started searching for memory fragments, trying to grab something.
After six months, I realized I couldn't remember anything. I don't remember when I broke into this space or when I decided to get involved.
It was when the epidemic began to cool, and the long-segregated heart started to bounce. I saw a mysterious screening on an active platform. In the picture, the background is dark, the curtain is full, the light is warm and warm.
2
Think about it and decide to go.
The first screening was a German-language drama, telling American stories. It's a bad level of foreign language with a flipping subtitle. I was forced to enter a sensory world, incomprehensible, to try to accept images on screen and to accept images in my heart. The attention is running out, the heart is moving, and the curtain is pulling back.
At the end of the screening, lights were spilled on stage, people of all kinds sat around, white ball shoes, long braids and gray hair. The power of magic grows, so the journey begins, and the mystery begins.
I traveled through underground channels like a dedicated Cinderella. The grey garment hides me, protects me, and devours me. Nobody can see but themselves. And by the end of the week, I came to this place quietly, passing through the curtains and sitting on a dark stage. The light was pouring at my feet, and I said, intermittently as a visitor, and as a counselor, silently looking, listening.
Every weekend, they leave in the dark, crawl into bed and close their eyes. Open the covers again and turn back to Cinderella. And in this mysterious space, stripping off their coats, socks, masks, turned into a strange, bloodless "human".
It was time for a screening, and I sat on a chair and opened my mouth to the ground, and I said I found myself turning into a leaf and the wind blowing me around.
3
Me and Real Image, Real Image and me.
I'm in Real Image again, face-to-face, and I can't see anything. But suddenly I found a small and huge scar on my forehead, and I touched it every day without wanting to notice it. And when the gates were kept pressed, I heard the sound of broken knots and hot blood.
Scars are no longer licked, no more disgusted. One day when I looked at that picture on the wall of the theater, I began to feel beautiful, naked, primitive. And you looked at them as if she had returned to that moment, and she invited you, and he told you, "Look at me, I am Cinderella, Cinderella in Crystal Shoes."
I still have to travel through the pipe every day to a golden and brilliant instrument, to turn around like a gear. But I don't think I'm an ant anymore, and I look at my body without shame, and I try to speak to my desires, and I don't touch scars, and I let my hair fall off. I'm getting thinner, breathing more and more.
The story is still moving, and every morning I'll leave in gray. But I know I just dropped one of the seven coloured crystal shoes in this black box.
END
"P4 Theater in Rain"
duration
01:03
Scanning attention.
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