Actors between plays are like ghosts looking for bodies to inhabit.
Hope does not necessarily have to take an object.
Learning when 'enough is enough' is the discipline of a lifetime.
Who wanted to creep along in comfort when there was one chance in a thousand of flying?
At times ... one is downright thankful for the self-absorption of other people.
What did a few ripples in the flesh matter when, all too soon, now or later, that flesh would be making its return journey to dust?