Mozart's Dressing Room
This is my dressing room. Did you not see my name on the door?
Yes, I am looking at you through the mirror of your conscience and not just through a screen.
You are not my usual make-up artist. You are not even my usual wig dresser. Who are you? Where is everyone? I want a massage. I also want someone to do something about this face powder. It's making me feel depressed, much like the news headlines.
Do you think I'm ready for my close-up now? I know I'm ready to receive any posthumous lifetime achievement awards anyone seeks to give me. They come in very handy when I need somewhere to sit my wig when it has fleas in it.
Do you run a flea circus or a media circus?
Are you supposed to be performing on the world stage over the next few days?
I do not recall seeing you at the auditions. You most definitely were not at the rehearsals.