"He has no past: he is the Theatre incarnate, its spirit materialized in a carbon-based avatar. No one in the town knows where he came from; perhaps he just sprang into existence in the Theatre the same way you get mice where there are pantries. Even if he did actually disembark from some train, valise in hand, nobody saw it happen.

He has no private life. If he’s suddenly found sipping tea in his apartment, it must be a set scene and he’s just waiting for one of the characters to turn up. Should he fall ill, it will probably be a trick as well. No one’s definitely going to see him dead.

Mark is a harlequin, but he only plays the part with his face. There’s no need to dress him in motley."