Remember when you were young and everything you wrote or performed held a flicker of genius? Remember that open feeling, the raw way that you took on the world and drove yourself back into it again, in all the brazen seriousness of your endeavours? Even your ear wax was an epiphany from the gods.
That’s what the Fringe is. It worships art for art’s sake, the “just do it and see what happens” experimentation of youth. Most of them won’t “make it” and will eventually take 9-5 jobs or continue living on the cusps of success, scraping by in small productions and side-line earners, waiting for that big break. But no matter what, I am certain that few will look back on their time as Fringe performers with regret. When the years have slid past and middle age is staring up at them like a nasty carpet stain, they will think of themselves as they were, so wild and perfect in their intentions. And they will smile.