"Heaven is in Your Mind." - S. Winwood

So it's hot, and we are rehearsing our little play in a dark and dusty old gallery, and the sweat is pouring off us, and our costumes are sticky, and the heat is kind of radiating out of the cast and crew, and the rehearsal is rough, we're sloppy, blowing lines, cracks are appearing everywhere, and this delicate little monster of a play is teetering, and the technical cues are "glitchy," and it's all sounding so foreign, and I'm thinking, "did I really write this thing?" and of course, this is the piece we're taking to Edinburgh, and it feels like we're starting from ground zero, and there's a little girl, (a fourth grader, a niece of one of the cast members) sitting in the front row, watching it all, and at the end, the Lovely Carla brings her into the dressing room, and the little girl, so beautiful, young, radiant, looks up at me and tells me what the play is about: "It's about a brain that gets confused." And she smiles and I smile and I say "you're right." And I think, "that should be my epitaph," and when I'm dead and gone, it should be written down somewhere, maybe on a rock, or a tree, or written in the sand, or the wind..."Sunny Jimmy - yes, he was a brain that became confused."