Lantern in the Square

There's a balcony. That means there's a second floor. It's a spacious interior, adorned with a golden finish on the walls and columns - even the floor's low-key yellow feels luxurious. The seats are neatly arranged in rows, their muted red, maybe orange, color mixing well with the rest of the auditorium's palette. It feels like a time machine, transporting you to an earlier age of man from whence extravagance was almost required in architecture.

This place is fancy.

Sounds of Silence

Lights dim. Fog rolls in.

A cloaked figure walks across the stage.

He stands behind a small podium, three candles resting along the edge, flanked by two longer ones. He seems to flip through a book, but my vantage point partially fails me. The microphone is pressed tightly against his lips; his face is unseen, save for quick glances of his mouth every now and then.

Fog continues to roll in. Chanting. Guttural words. A pagan ritual?

Am I at the right concert?