Blindfolded, alone, my foot steps out and finds no purchase beneath. The hand of my guardian does not contact my shoulder to warn me back, so I swallow my hesitation and fully commit to my choice. Contact. I hit the floor and roll, cold concrete jarring me, and reach to remove the strip of cloth and chastise my guardian for not being there. A voice comes, "Don't even think of taking it off. Go with what you feel. Disoriented, sore, afraid. Now you know it's just you. No one to help you, no one to stop you when you've gone too far. Feel that. Now move."

I reach out, searching, feeling the eyes of my classmates, fearing that they are delighting in the tumble from the stage, feeling what Creon would feel. Paranoia. Trepidation. Uncertainty.

Day two of auditions, and I am working through some experimental character research...I was called back to read for the King of Thebes in Antigone. How intimidating is that? Having read the play a dozen times in the last week, I know what the characters say. Now I begin to explore why they say what they say. I begin to see where each argument is at once right and wrong. It's less a question of who is more correct than who is more passionate.