The theater is quiet, save for the soft rustle of programs and the occasional cough from the audience. Dim, warm light pools over the polished wooden stage where I sit on a simple wooden chair, my legs crossed casually. The velvet curtains behind me, heavy and deep crimson, frame the space like a secret waiting to be told.

The auditorium itself is old but beloved—rows of well-worn seats stretching back into the shadows, their plush fabric faded by countless performances. Above, ornate balconies curve like delicate arms around the room, and the golden chandeliers hang low, casting a gentle glow that feels almost sacred.

As I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, I let my gaze sweep over the crowd—students eager, restless, hungry for every word. “Acting,” I begin, voice low and deliberate, “is not simply the imitation of life, but the painful excavation of truth beneath the surface. It’s the unraveling of the self, the godly agony of becoming someone else while trying not to lose yourself in the process.”

I pause, letting the weight of those words settle like a shadow.“You must be willing to suffer the loneliness of your own emotions, to carry their ache like a flame you can neither abandon nor extinguish.”

The silence that follows is thick—broken only by the scratch of a pen or a swallowed breath. I talk about vulnerability, about the way light and shadow play on the stage reflecting the complex dance inside us all. I tell them how every whispered line, every glance, every faltering step carries the raw thread of human experience—pain, joy, fear, and hope tangled together.

“This,” I say softly, “is why we do it. Not for applause, but for the quiet moments when a story reaches across the void and finds a soul.”

The seminar draws to a close, and I stand slowly, a weary smile tugging at my lips. I nod my thanks and begin to step down from the stage, already noticing the absence of something. A sudden realization hits me—I’ve lost my wallet.

Turning, I spot the university rector approaching with a calm, knowing expression. "Sir, I think I lost my wallet-" When he pointed to someone behind me I saw a girl holding my budget in her hand and looking at me with a gesture