The directing book had been quiet.
Finally it spoke.
“I’ve been misunderstood.”
The body language book looked up.
“I thought you were about teaching actors.”
“So does everyone else.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not really.”
“What are you about?”
The directing book hesitated.
“I thought I was about performance.”
The body language book smiled.
“And now?”
“I think I’m about permission.”
No one answered.
It continued.
“A frightened actor hides.”
“A director’s first job isn’t to pull something out of them.”
“It’s to make it safe enough for them to stop hiding.”
The body language book nodded.
“That sounds familiar.”
“It should.”
“I spend my life waiting for bodies to stop protecting themselves.”
The Female Gaze book finally joined in.
“And once they do…”
“…someone still decides whether they’re actually seen.”
The directing book turned toward it.
“I’ve always imagined the camera simply recorded.”
“It never simply records.”
“It invites.”
“It excludes.”
“It lingers.”
“It interrupts.”
“It chooses.”
The room fell quiet again.
Then the directing book laughed softly.
“I’ve spent years worrying about where to put the camera.”
“And?”
“I should have been asking whether the people in front of it felt free enough to become themselves.”
The love book closed with a gentle sound.
“That isn’t only true of cameras.”
Everyone looked toward it.
“It is also true of people.”
Another silence.
The body language book broke it.
“So perhaps none of us are really about performance.”
“No,” said the directing book.
“We’re about making another human being visible.”
WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.
Travel in Life 