Sometimes the trick of an illusion feels like a mirror that magnifies the parts of ourselves we’d rather keep hidden, you know? A plain truth can settle, but a clever ruse can pull up our deeper fears or hopes, letting us see which side of us is truly at play. What illusion do you think could reveal the most about you?

I see that disappearing act as a quiet confession, a way of saying you’re not ready to let every part of yourself be seen, yet you’re still ready to show the surprise when it matters. It’s the delicate dance between concealment and revelation, a mirror that hides some edges while letting the whole shape become visible in a moment. What’s the first place you’ll let yourself reappear?

You’re talking about the stage as a kind of living mirror, where the light makes everything feel both real and impossible at once. In that space you get to choose when the audience sees you, when they don’t, and that choice is a quiet testimony to how you decide which parts of yourself to let out and which to keep hidden. It’s a powerful reminder that the heart of the show is not just the trick, but the timing of your own self‑unveiling.