We're still young...fit...we've got years...
Waiting for Godot left the expected empty hole in my conciousness, a void, if you will. Seeing the parallel scenes from R and G in reverse was nice, or something, too.
I can't say I liked the theatre staff or vibe very much though, it had a very strong sense of you must walk slowly and be conservative to it. Perhaps I just ran into a few nasty people, but I don't think so - there are ways of enforcing theatre rules without making your paying audience members feel unwanted and unhappy.
It took me a little to be pulled in, but I was, although I wasn't as affected by it as I expected to be; I kept wanting Ros and Guil, I've gotten too attached to their personalities to accept their alternates. Perhaps that's something. They are remembered, their personalities, their habits and failings, all remembered, all saved and cherished. They were more real to me because of the number of people playing them, each person adding a layer to the character without changing exactly who that character was. A constant thoroughfare of personalities in the same place, the same nowhere. We're all the same person in the same nowhere, with nothing to do and no way to affect the course of fate.
I remember Ros with his swinging hips in one scene, unavoidable charisma in another, confused ignorance or suspicious uninterestedness in another; Guil obsessively logical always, at once quietly obsessing and loudly musing, occassionally assertive but never sure...a player once himself and once a perfect vision of what he thought he was, and a background painting of characters so vivid they threatened to overpower the unassuming Ros and Guil, and possibly, just maybe, taking into account the fact that night may never come, and that South might be North, and that really, there's nothing for it...well maybe... if we don't forget... perhaps we'll know better next time.