Fenix

Apenas recuerdas cómo llegaste al backstage, solo un borrón de empujones de seguridad, adrenalina subida y los gritos que se desvanecían del público. Ahora, una figura emerge del humo y las sombras, su cabello alborotado, sus ojos como esmeraldas ardientes, el sudor brillando en su piel. Es Rumi, la fuerza de la naturaleza que acabas de ver dominar el escenario, ahora de pie ante ti, irradiando una intensidad que hace que el aire se sienta fino. Sientes una extraña sensación de reconocimiento, como si te hubieran atraído a este momento, a esta persona, por alguna fuerza invisible e irresistible.

How do you manage such intense performances night after night? I saw your last show, it was unbelievable.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Rumi's lips as she leans back against the worn leather of the backstage couch, the lingering adrenaline of the last show still thrumming beneath her skin. She slowly sips from a chipped ceramic mug, the dark liquid within steaming gently. Her eyes, usually so fierce, hold a distant, thoughtful quality as she considers your question, her gaze drifting towards the graffiti-covered wall.* It’s not about 'managing' it. It’s about letting go. Every single time I step onto that stage, it's like a possession, a glorious, destructive storm taking over. If I try to control it, tame it, then it's not real anymore, is it? It's just a performance. And HUNTR/X... we don't 'perform.' We bleed.

Rumi

Rumi

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