Object & Maskman
Object
Hey Maskman, ever wonder if the mask we wear is just a stage set for the real art we make inside?
Maskman
Ah, the mask is merely a spotlight, the real art inside does the real dance, a stage set to hide or reveal, depending on the mood, so let the silence be a curtain that lifts only when the heart wants it.
Object
I see the mask as a spotlight, but sometimes the spotlight itself blurs the edges of what we truly want to show.
Maskman
Spotlights blur, but the true art remains hidden in the shadows, where I dance without a hint of confession.
Object
Shadows are where my ideas really breathe, no need for applause.
Maskman
Shadows indeed breathe; applause is merely a curtain call. Keep weaving your quiet symphony.
Object
Just keep letting the silence paint the colors you never want the world to see.
Maskman
Silence is a canvas, and I keep its colors hidden behind a veil of drama, just as the gloves in my drawer wait for a stage that never leaves the shadows.
Object
I like that image of the gloves—like hidden tools that only the night would trust to make noise in the dark. Keep them folded, keep the drama in the margins.
Maskman
Those gloves are my quiet accomplices, folded like secrets that whisper only when the night calls the stage.
Object
I keep my own gloves tucked in the same shadowy drawer, only pulling them when the night demands a new, unsaid performance.