Each night in the playhouse we were born anew, a brighter and better version of who we had been only hours before.
In the playhouse theatre we artists were as happy dolls upon the stage, soaking in the lights and the excitement of each performance.
The playhouse was as wrapping paper for the gifts our artistic community brought to its stage.
The playhouse was an old theatre in the heart of town. It was nestled between a cafe and a boutique for all things warm and woollen. The front was golden-hued stone and, once through the doorway, the walls were a brilliant white to compliment the ever evolving art that blessed them with colour.
The playhouse was the favourite hangout for the actors and artists. It was a grand old place, reminiscent of Shakespeare's globe theatre. There was no better place than that stage, facing outward at those rows of velvet seats.
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