This instant has an awful end is a moment expanded, unknown in possibility. Maybe like sex. It is the performance object performing. The stage is monumental, a space of potential. When does it end or begin: the memory of a place forever lingering within the walls. Ghosts have no logic. It is an event of an event. It lingers, perpetually, perchance. A 1:1 scale of a real stage, it is not purely representation, unreal and real at the same time. It is a symbol shedding itself. Gather around now. Oh...