From Jonathan Ball’s Clockfire, a book of impossible plays:
Entering the theatre, you dream what brought you here. Impossible dreams. You know before you sit, before you turn your attention to the stage, that nothing you see shall impress you, nothing in this darkened room will change your life. Yet this is why you came: for change. Your gods abandoned you and you need new gods. Your myths have come to vainglorious ends. You want something from the theatre it cannot give. You want to be hammered on anvils and shaped in fire. Instead, you sit when you want to rise, furious, keep quiet when you want noise. And still, when the lights go down, there is a moment before the curtain rises when you think things might be different this time, the stage might spill forth phantoms, let loose some antediluvian madness that will carry you off to its terrible, bone-crusted lair, something you fear but desire with each pulse.