19 years old, struggling to live with the emotional vampire that surrounds me, hidden within the space. absent from life, observing from a distance, cold calculating, plotting the movement of things, how they walk, how they talk, how they respond to one another. Predicting where the next move will come from and what error it may contain (edit: that is not the correct term rather a habit of language).
It is a difficult thing. Best just to catch a glimpse of it from time to time and let it do its own thing. It is not apart of being. It tells me how to be or how I think it may be.
Acting is to speak in the absence of error. Nothing that can be demonstated here. The teacher has no notes that can be given. The only thing to be measured in this moment is it’s cost, it’s price is high.
It can now be termed an art form. Notes can often be given and error is common. Art is a rare and unpredictable quality which occurs in this system through trial and error.