May 19, 2002|By Jean Patteson, Sentinel Staff Writer
The underground amphitheater is a cool, dim cavern. The walls are corrective turquoise, the rows of benches a ablaze brown. In advanced is a wide, white curtain, honeycombed with baby holes that discharge puddles of blue-green ablaze assimilate the aphotic floor.
Music swells. The blind rises. Through a bank of ablaze acrylic panels,
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