…is got to dream, boy.

I’ve never felt as helpless, hopeless and emotionally distressed for a person I don’t know than I did last night, for Willy Loman.

I realize the sentence structure there is completely off, but bear with me.

I can’t get off pretending I don’t know him. He’s the everyman. I’ve known him for always. But watching his demise executed so brilliantly at Bratton last night made everything. Not to mention made me thrilled to head to the bar later.

See it.