The chills that the tunes send down my spine are antagonizing but brimming with temptation. It is the kind of fear and mystery you lust after even if there is the inherent knowing that nothing good or something bad could result from this venture. But it is a journey to take, and I have done it twice now, and just last night, my life was complete.

And it probably made much sense to do some reflection over my favourite musical (which I didn't get a chance to the last round). But I thought I'd put some perspective into a more sidelined (but I feel equally important) theme to the play--masquerade (or in my words, facade). (I know the play is centered around romance but there is more to it than just love)

Aside from its the chills and thrills you get starting from the ascension of the chandelier (accompanied with bond-tingling symphonies which I absolutely love) and the grip of tension as it makes its way back down again finding itself in shambles and in many years time, a relic for auction, the chandelier and its fate in the course of the play is more than just an antic. It is a living testament of the destruction and chaos that was wrecked in the opera theatre stemming from the hatred and jealousy of the Phantom, he himself a motif for disfigurement and ugliness. It is a lesson that when we do unto others what others have done unto us driven by desperation for paying in kind (or in cliched, giving others a taste of their own medicine), such revenge will only lead to further ruin and no salvation. It merely brings others down along with you and the world as it is has descended into said chaos, with much emphasis placed on superficial appearances and presentation, so much so that the faintness scare has to be concealed with a mask of deceit.

But not just the direct implication of being vengeful; it is the indirect result of hiding the truth behind a masquerade that often triggers such repercussions. The way the Phantom takes shelter in an underground shelter is analogous to the way his disfigurement seeks refuge behind the mask. When we far below the reality of the world, we feel safe in our discomforts and find solace in our shortcomings (or what we perceive to be). We keep the melodious tunes of our hearts deep in its chambers, deaf to the walls which are hard of hearing. We breathe in the smoke of confusion and see only the blur, because we refuse to accept but persist in hiding behind this facade. It is when the harsh reality of society drives you beneath the levels of humanity that you become a phantom, hiding your disfigurement (tangible and intangible ones) and seeking revenge, in the hope that the world will never find you.

But can it be that we are merely looking for love? That deep down in our dungeons, there is a doll suited up in our ideal fashion conceptions waiting to be brought to life. That perhaps there is a soft tune humming beyond our hatred, chimed by lot 665, a music box in the shape of a monkey.

Because if we do realize that and we stop there, the auction could end there and then. There would be no need to reveal the secrets of lot 666, a mystery unexplained but perhaps not needed to be done so. We can sweep the broken shards of our shattered chandelier under the rug and be contented with a simple toy and its gimmick.

We don't always want to love; sometimes, we just want to feel the love, maybe without having the need to reciprocate it.

But most times, we can't bring ourselves to come to terms with such a truth and we choose the easier way out:

Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you.