My most depressing moment at the Fringe was the first time I realized the imploring eyes staring at me from the shriveled flier on the rain soaked sidewalk were, in fact, mine. That's my flier?!
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The beauty of a small crowd for a storyteller is it feels like dinner conversation, rather than a raucous party. I love feeling walls of laughter from hundreds of people, but it's not personal.
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