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Chris Martin’s voice permeated the studio, singing a lullaby straight to my son. “I will try to fix you. Lights will guide you home.” Sam’s part hadn’t even started yet, but I was already dabbing my cheeks.
The danseur playing the lieutenant general sat to one side in a chair. His ballerina wife threw herself forward in grief. And then the youth ballet corps rose up and pantomimed flying, flashlights aloft, bringing an imaginary man home to a family he didn’t know.… Read the rest