How delectable it is to sit together again and become the many-handed creature that knows when our hands should meet and percuss in agreement, in gratitude, in sonic appreciation for a moment of awe or surprise, for the effort, for the verve. To be the many-eared creature that hears inventive, surprising, moving, bold, unexpected, audacious words coming from a stage directed at us. My dictionary tells me the word audience originates from Old French, from Latin audientia, from audire ‘hear’ and I want the word together to be linked to that hearing for how it is a collective listening and that it is listening with everything we’ve got. We’ve been keeping our breathing close and isolated and are so bereft of audiencing together. My clapping, my laugh is paltry without yours. And here we are, at the Fringe. I have so much gratitude to each of you who has contributed in whatever capacity to making this happen. Thank you. It is exactly what this town needs right now. Outside or in, apart enough to remember what it’s like to be reinvigorated, recharged by the generosity of live performance. This is the charge our spirits have been desperate for; this is how we restore our radiance and our zeal. This is when we recalibrate. This festival is an eleven-day pollination of listening and breathing and laughing and crying on the Fringe of everything that is happening on the planet so we can ready ourselves, our hearts and our heads, for whatever we need to do next. Until then, let us Fringe together.