As the girls start vigorously preparing for their big winter exhibition, Maon decides that instead of whistling or singing, she wants to do a recital, like one that moved her long ago. However, when the time comes to write something down, she has a lot of difficulty, which is compounded by the increasingly public buildup and expectation. With the support of her friends, she’s not only able to recite her story in front of a large audience at the Virgo theatre, but is able to recite the ending straight from her head. Her bold venture lends added courage to her friends in theirs.
As it’s been established that Maon is the group member with the most diverse and fleeting passions, we expected a degree of trepidation in her efforts to write a one-person play. But lo and behold, she follows through, by the seat of her pants and in the face of enormous anticipation – without any rehersal or even an ending in writing. Maon didn’t make it easy for herself – writing something can be far more emotionally and intellectually labor-intensive than, say, baking cookies, making tinctures, or snapping pictures.
Her story is simple, pleasant, and very much autobiographical. It wasn’t perfect, but she didn’t embarass herself up there like a presidential candidate, either. It was a nice touch for her to tell the story of how she literally found her voice thanks to friends like Norie, without whom she’d only dream of speaking to a full house in a theatre. Her friends are right there backstage cheering her on, and Fu is there to snap a tender moment when Maon is finished her story and basks victoriously in the bright lights and applause. Whatever Maon is, she’s no longer someone who never finishes things!