poor boys and the Fanshaws

white smoke and a hanging coffin
                       figure

somewhat inert

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The man who invited me said afterwards that he could feel that I was not enjoying it though I didn't know that I had been giving that impression. I wrote only lines one and two of the notes while the performance was offending me. It seemed up to then to be a magnified version of everything I detest in realist theatre, the imposing of feelings and interpretations by the performers leaving the audience with nothing to do but accept and obey.

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But then I spotted something different: