The silence inside the Amazon Theater is unlike any other.
It’s a silence dense with anticipation, heavy with the
memory of a century of applause, infused with the scent of
crimson velvet, polished wood, and aged gold. The lights
dim, the murmurs of the audience fade, and in the perfect
acoustic void, we wait for the first note of a violin. Instead,
what pierces the air is the liquid, impossibly pure flute of the
uirapuru bird.
THE FOREST’S
VOICE ECHOES IN
THE AMAZON
THEATER
A m a z o n T h e a t e r