Modern theatres have the architectural feel of airports: points of departure (in theory).
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Looking at photos of past productions reveals a flock of actors and writers whose day came, went, and is now little more than a scarcely glanced-at photo.
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Exceptions for my generation are: Rossiter, David Hemmings, Ronald Harwood, as an actor. All now dead.
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Theatres in other countries with photos of actors whose moment of glory has gone.
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My own friend himself captivating of a night, emphasising the value of the ephemeral in the face of eternity.
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