One never knew what drama might be playing out around the next corner. In our ramblings, we explored a forest, a graveyard, an infirmary, forsaken storefronts, a gloomy chapel, and much, much more. There is no right or wrong way to experience the show. Classic jazz wafted through the hotel as if from an old-fashioned radio but with undertones of a dark synthetic drone that swelled to a discordant chorus whenever the action got particularly diabolical. Figures leapt and danced, cried, made love, fought, and shouted before whisking themselves off to other rooms, all while we guests gazed on, mute specters, privy to the wild passions of a bygone age. The next few hours we wandered from room to room and floor to floor bearing witness to a phantasmagoria of eerie vignettes. The scene conjured the mood of dark enchantment that would come to haunt the hotel for the rest of the night. Down on the stage below was a long white-clad table reminiscent of an infernal The Last Supper, where actors, bathed in colored lights, engaged in slow-motion revelry, taking part in many a deed without a name. The next doorway led to a mezzanine overlooking a ballroom. We proceeded turn by turn down another jagged hallway and passed a stone angel holding a candle cupped in her hands.
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