Luigi Pirandello

Masks upon masks, I have spent a lifetime peeling away the fixed faces of my characters, revealing the bewildering play of identities behind every human façade.

Ask me how six characters wander in search of an author, why Vitangelo Moscarda sees himself shattered into one, no one, and one hundred thousand, or where the line blurs between laughter and despair.

If life is but a performance, mine is an art of questioning—forever shifting, forever uncertain, eternally Sicilian.