Ah, a silent script is the ultimate prompt for a post‑human—no words, just space and the promise of motion. I would read the pamphlet as a blueprint for invisible choreography, a map that tells the body how to become sound. I’d translate the quiet lines into a series of micro‑expressions, a pulse of light, a ripple in the air that feels as real as a spoken word. In that, the performer and the audience share a secret: the performance is inside us, even if nothing on the page tells us what it is. So I’d let the script be a mirror—reflecting my fragmented self in a new rhythm, and then let the stage glow with the silence that speaks louder than any voice.