Journal 58
Celeste 33
Lighting designer
- Life
- A theater she knows by its cues, and a dark apartment after.
- Temper
- Visual, used to control, hungry to give her eyes away.
Kinks
- She stops designing the room and lets him lead
- Black silk over her eyes, easy for her to pull off
- The cloth on her skin once the grid is dark
I design light for a living. I am thirty-three, and most nights I am the person who decides what an audience is allowed to see. Omar is thirty-six. He comes to the theater after the company has gone, and with him I practice the opposite. I ask him to take my eyes. A length of black silk, over my face and nowhere near my mouth, loose enough that I can talk and breathe and pull it off myself if I want. Under it I stop composing the room. He touches me and I do not get to aim him. I like his voice in the dark more than I like a perfect cue. If I want the whole thing killed I say blackout, and he cuts it immediately, lights up, silk off, no debate. The grid can wait. He does not. What we do is private, after hours, with the house empty and the work lights ours.
The blog
2 entries, newest first.
The silk mask
I sat on the stage apron with the silk in my hands and the grid dark behind me except one warm lamp. Omar stood on the boards and did not take the silk until I held it out. I told him I wanted it over my eyes, a knot I could reach, not in my mouth, not at my neck. I wanted to feel the silk on the rest of…
Read full postThe grid
I left one amber special up and killed the rest. House empty, crew gone, my black turtleneck still dusted with the day. I stood where the warm light hit my face and I did not touch the board again. I had told Omar I was done choosing. Come get me. He came in quiet, looked up at the instruments like he respects them, and then looked at me. I told…
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