
Hello!
Can you hear me?
Is there anybody out there who could reach my hand and pull me through?
I'm at the bottom of this lost hole, it’s dark in here and it will son be night...I’m starting to feel afraid...
Is it ok if lay down all the masks and show myself, with all my wounds and scars and bruises?
I never imagined that it could be so hard, so painful to do it, to face myself...
Misery and loneliness all around cover me with shame and despair...I'm week, I feel so fragile laying here all by my self...like an old broken marionette, that has no more stories to play by the end of the day...all day long she performs in that magnificent stage, she laughs, sings, dances and always smiles! but when the show's over and the curtain falls, just like me, she stands alone in the dark having nothing more to help her through the night than the echoes of the public’s applause...but their all gone now, and I’m alone in this dark corner, frightened, hunted by memories and ghosts of the past...
"Who will save me?"
"WHO WILL SAVE ME??"-she screams at the dusty and empty old theatre where she plays her life.
As her voice echoes through the room that heavy silence takes over once more. No one answers, no one's there...
For her and for me it's just another night of insomnia hunted by the dark feelings that took over our heart long ago...the wounds never stop bleeding, the scars never stop hurting...her story is mine and mine is hers. Metaphors of each other’s lives I am the marionette, broken, old and dusty and she is this vague form of life that I call myself…both pulled by stings, forced to live by some script we never seen, improvising at each step not knowing how all this will end…left to trust in the hands who pull the strings, praying to our puppet master to bring to our stories some fairy tale happy ending…


