But for the rest of the evening, and into the next day, and the day after, a small, perverse part of my subconscious is still thinking about that moment, about that dance, about that kiss, those parting words. I know it’s all an act, and I am one of many lucky people who will leave the show having experienced a spine-tingly one-on-one experience. I am not unique. But there’s still a piece of me that doesn’t want to let go of the few short minutes when The Drowned Man stopped being a spectacle to be watched, and instead became something I was part of. It lit up something inside me that’s left me feeling dreamy and open and weirdly, unexpectedly giddy.
– From raspberry beret girl
See, I’m not the only one!
In my least generous moments, I think Punchdrunk is pretty much evil for luring people in like this. (She says as she contemplates booking another ticket to London…)