That’s grotesque.
The Theatermuseum in the Lobkowitz Palace, Vienna. Not the public galleries, but the back room: the Sammlungsdepot (collection depot). Racks of costumes on wheeled hangers, a row of plaster death masks on a high shelf, a glass case holding a tiny, intricate stage model. Dust motes float in a single shaft of light from a high window. A faint smell of old velvet, wax, and paper. theatermuseum wien
That’s just biography.
That’s not possible.