The moment before the curtain parts – that rush of Champagne excitement; that excited dread of the audience made of stone; that silent intake of breath past the pounding heart – to stand on the brink of the New Year is a little like that too, isn’t it? when we wear masks and toot horns and dance and drink and believe that this night, this year, is the one, that now is finally the time. As the stage manager, Guillame, puts it:
But it was to me quite amazing — it is still amazing! — that one may conjure what is from what is not, crack an egg and make a pair of gilded rings appear, take wool and wire and paper and voila! a knight, a king, a fairy-princess, alive and living for as long as the lights are low. The stage is not only a world apart, it is a myriad of worlds, and in those worlds a man can have anything he fancies, if only he believes in what he sees.
May all your stages host plays worth the playing, in this brave new year to come, and may I meet you, as many as feel beckoned, in the pages, and the stages, Under the Poppy. Happy New Year!

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