Zhao Lihian: P4 Theater Real Image project participant 015. Current P4 Theater, "The Howlers on the Top" actor, with the title of "Reporter", is responsible for the recording and promotion of parts of the theatre outside the theatre.

P4 what? What's P4 Theater doing? Why?

What are you talking about when you talk about it?

So many people are saying, stop talking nonsense!

The cameraman saw the big, white, high-end studio.

The director's scripters saw the light pouring on the stage.

All actor models, come here to see their dark side.

A lot of the workers here would say it's home.

Ordinary people are curious and courteous, and he comes to "Real Image" to cross what anyone's body can do -- It became a work of art itself, united by four high walls, and p4 is as beautiful as a holy temple of elves.

The artists here are very different. The rationals have the romanticism of reason, the emotional romanticism of the sensory, and they express it to the outside world: it is clearly a fairyhole of an idealist.

It has so much light, so great, so extraordinary a moment, so deep and so good that it cannot be remembered. Even in the recent history of art, it's gonna have to come to seven, eight fucking pages.

Huh.

In my view, its door remains a mediocre iron door, built into a river of realism.

I don't believe in evil.

As a journalist who came from over a thousand kilometres and drank a cold wind and stepped into the hot air, I suddenly lost my face and the goose bumps of my neck.

At the show, young people of all kinds are rehearsing an art play with swearing, with the main players jumping from upstairs to downstairs, bang, bang, bang.

At the centre of the stage, women directors in white sweaters who work hard to drink, while at the edge they sit on the edge of the stage and watch, they are responsible for responding. He Fa, the founders of Sauhua, the permanent staff, the taste of play and the anxiety of fear of error.

It's when people come and go.

I smell fighting, killing.

The director of the gold of the white sweater, who from time to time encourages the kind gold of the people, as if she were on the pup stage of a dream, and she was worried about every move. It is not enough that she was the one who entered the scene in the deepest part of the scene, and that a slight discomfort led to a sad and painful face on the ground.

The heavy man in black pressure on the feathers was a writer who was told that his name was "Dreaming", and that his head was white and fat, and his eyebrow was black and black, and his top play was a sincere display of his heavy sleeves, shouting with understanding, in confrontation with all the commons. It's a dirty play, he wrote it. I'm not surprised at all. I totally understand it. It's all personal.

I forgot to say that I came here to interview "journalists", that I made a perfect match between my vision and my identity, and that I made a complete overlap between my personality outside the scene and my role in it. I'm happy because I've got four or five lines for this script. Roles are so rigid, simple and crazy.

It took me three hours to sit and watch this crowd.

The interview took two minutes to finish its part.

I paint, I paint, I paint, I paint, I paint, I paint, I paint, I paint, I paint, I paint.

I write poetry, I write essays that many people praise, but I can't play the author who doesn't write.

I have a pristine and stubborn passion for art, and I struggle physically, but I can't play an artist who can't see it broken.

I love women, I love myself, I think women are nothing but human beings. I still have the look of a little girl today at the age of 25, but I can't play that naive little girl. I've got a hot-faced dress, with a hip and hip, so beautiful that nightwalkers can stir up, but I can't play the bar lady who asked to be so dressed.

As for the character of the obscenity, the girlfriend and the stupid cop, I don't like people like that because today I'm not angry and I'm not working. I don't want them either.

The sweet gold tells me that there is only a "journalist" now. Go! I'll turn my mind. I ran up the stairs with the police, ran over the table and shouted a few lines, and she came down and looked at me, and she said, "That's great! You're great!

So, where's my Sam? Why isn't she here today? She's going to interview an actor. I asked a man who said that San San was unhappy these days in the theater's office.

I ran out of this hot spot.

Sansan was a very quiet girl whose young face always had delicate makeup but still looked soft because she used to laugh. She went to school while working for P4 Theater, and now she lives here.

At this moment, when she was sitting alone in her office knocking on a computer and adjusting the poster for the next scene, I could feel cold and sad and let go. I don't seem to be a reporter in the play anymore, I'm not a reporter outside the scene, I'm holding Sam's cold little hand and watching her cry and rubbing her tears.

What happened in the theater, how did it go? I forgot. I didn't hear what she said, because I didn't have the answers and I couldn't say perfect comfort. I looked at her, and I didn't have anything in my heart.

"The Howler on the ceiling."

In P4 Theater

January 2nd, 7:30 p.m.

It's on time.

Howling once in a lifetime!

Purchase of tickets, consulting

Add/Sweep

P4 Theater💥42.