There’s a certain magic in dimming theater lights—like stepping into a world where reality softens and imaginations unfold. I first felt it when my dad took me to see the Broadway musical Frozen in Boston. The moment the curtains rose, I was spellbound. The vivid blues of Elsa’s ice palace sparkled before my eyes, the enchanting melodies resonated in my ears, and even the chill in the air seemed to echo the frozen landscapes on stage. Every sense seemed to awaken and tangle with the story’s magic. From that day on, I found myself enchanted by the stage, always seeking the next moment of theater to indulge in. 

Musicals and plays I attended like Les Misérables, Alice in Wonderland, the Vietnamese play Bóng Rối, and Carmen only deepened my fascination. Each time, I uncovered new subtleties—a seamless flip of a set piece switching from a street into a cozy home, or the raw emotion of Fantine’s tears as she sang “I Dreamed a Dream” These intricate details breathed life into the stage, revealing the artistry beneath the surface. Over time, I grew a bond with the theater, feeling an irresistible urge not just to watch but to belong to the stories brought to life under the spotlight.