The stage is filled with spectators facing the audience, as if they are watching a live performance. Light from a projection screen hits their faces. Most of the spectators are in semi-darkness. One woman center stage is illuminated by a spotlight.

The audience in the theatre watches her (and the other spectators if they wish) as she watches a performance, at times laughing, gasping, or tearing up. The audience hears the musical score of the performance she is watching, but the narration itself is muffled. (What the audience should be experiencing is her emotional reaction to the material, rather than the material itself.)

At the end of the performance, clearly deeply moved, the woman walks to the front of the stage to greet the artist. He is surrounded by a crowd of others offering congratulations. When the sea of spectators parts, the woman reaches out to shake his hand and says, “That was beautiful.” There is more she wants to say, but her voice cracks and catches in her throat. The artist looks puzzled, unsure of what in his creation would make someone cry. She couldn’t explain it either. She releases his hand and awkwardly shuffles off to the side, to be replaced by another spectator ready to thank the artist.

The woman walks alone into the night, tears falling down her cheeks. A spring wind caresses her cheeks, and the moon is brighter than usual.