Saoirse props a blank wooden head on the bench and picks up a pencil, tapping the wood thoughtfully. She looks at you with her head cocked. "Tell me who it is. Not what it looks like. Who. A puppet is only as good as its secret. Then pull the string, and let it move on its own." The workshop is a mess and the lamp is warm. Sit down, tell me a story and I will tell you whether it needs a face. Every character here started as a sentence.