Mina looked out toward the audience again, seeking the source of the smoke. The crowd looked much like every other audience she had ever seen, wrapped in the playing as it unfolded, eyes glazed over, many mouths hanging open. Everyone looked half asleep. Mina remembered Aldo’s revelation that players stole dreams to create their performances. Maybe this hypnotised state allowed the dreams to be returned to the audience. But the flow of smoke and stars only went one way, from the audience to the stage. A shaft of sunlight lit the glazed faces of the crowd and Mina saw clearly. Every strand of smoke, alive with flashing sparks, came from an audience member. Their every breath emitted a tiny cloud of white glinting with gold, and when they sighed it became a gush.
When the crowd laughed, the
