To us, it is more than just a play, it is a journey. Our journey. Nothing can replace it, or even come close. And now, after all this time of sharing the stories of the underworld, we finally get to tell our own; moving on to new memories and new beginnings.

Leaving Edinburgh is difficult. We share stories and fall into a deep sleep as the plane takes us home. But home doesn't mean that the journey is complete. On the contrary, the journey continues.

The opportunity to be able to perform in the Edinburgh Festival Fringe was beyond my wildest dreams. It was the first time that I had ever been a part of a touring show, and producing After Orpheus was no small feat.

What you've done become eclipsed by what you won't do, because there's no way to come to the Fringe and expect to experience even half of what it has to offer.

If you don't get press or reviews, how will the audience know that you, little David, are out there somewhere giving a performance?

When we arrived in Lexington, we all realized one thing: we finally have an audience, and none of us knew what was going to happen next.

Imagine, if you will, the following scenario: You are at the Edinburgh International Book Festival. This is your fifth time in the city, yet somehow you have only just discovered that this event exists.

Politics demonizes. Theater humanizes. Some prefer their demons. But that may be a harder preference to maintain, after understanding why Jennifer "hearts" Hamas.

Years and years ago when I was a wee improviser in Chicago, I expected that I would one day perform at the Fringe; I just never imagined it would be as a vowed celibate.

You want your fellow performers at your show for the same reason you should go to theirs -- the ideal audience is made up of your peers, other theatre-makers who know that a venue in a closet is still better than where the ceiling doubles as the floor for a dance show.

As we looked more closely at the disparate shows, we realized that although the plays themselves are incredibly diverse, contemporary productions, whether great or terrible, tend to have a lot in common.

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival held an event in solidarity with the Pussy Riot artists yesterday. About 35 people attended. About 10 took part in the direct organization and performance. Was it significant?

They said they would come to see my show. They promised they would come! Liars! My show is amazing, my mom even said so! I'm amazing, who wouldn't want to see my amazing show?

Selling tickets at the Fringe Festival is a risky business. If nobody's heard of you or your play, you just might be sh*t out of luck.

I wake up screaming, soaked in sweat thinking about it. No, I'm not talking about my show, I'm talking about flyering.

When I was young people would say, "Oh, he has so much potential!" This was my death knell. Even in my naive state of ignorant bliss and never-ending cans of root beer I knew that I never wanted to be that guy who grew up with potential and lost it somewhere along the way.

Too often, Americans especially view theater as something that is only done in the English-speaking world. One of the coolest things about Edinburgh is finding a hidden gem from the great big wide world of theater, done by companies outside the U.S. and UK.