Mean moffs

A still taken during rehearsals for my ground-breaking stage production of Mean Streets.  All the parts are to be played by micro moths and, instead of Little Italy, the drama unfolds against a gritty backdrop of a post-apocalyptic dystopia where every small time hood struggles to succeed amongst a decaying architecture of discarded technology.  In this pivotal scene Charlie (played by Caloptilia [or should it be Gracillaria?] syringella) approaches the alter of the fallen Apple and delivers his personal philosophy on confession, sin and penance:

"... It's all bullshit except the pain, right? The pain of hell. The burn from a lighted match increased a million times. Infinite. You don't fuck around with the infinite. There's no way you do that..."

I think we all know this is going to be great.  The only problem I foresee is choosing between the West End or Broadway,... well that and the fact that the cast are tiny, virtually uncontrollable invertebrates, most of whom I struggle to tell apart.

But apart from that,... this is going to be great.