THE BARBER OF SEVILLE
Figaro, a man of million trades, yet one true mastery. The synonym for the traits found on the other side of the needles eye. Of the gate, a man can’t ride through in a Benz or Hummer.
A noble failure, a silver-lined spirit which society bowing to success, progress and excess, banished and reduced to a ridicule, a bum, a sidekick. And now we have a war. A silent war for the most prestigious of them sweet loots. The loot attainable by anything or nothing. By the stock, the bond the real estate ... Or by an obscure haircut, dada poetry or change of heart.
Yet it is always won in the face of power and possession. The divine rules of the game nobody can’t saddle, merely, like Figaro does, whip it wild. He saves Rosina from the foolish romantic investment she made, but doing so, he saves much more. A sample of true libertine spirit, a drop of idealistic romance and a split hair of poetic justice. A global intangible heritage we should not only protect but also exercise.