There, he collapses backward as Stravinsky's final, bleating note cues the escape from within the proscenium space of a silky wisp of pure-white fabric, sending it like a comet into the auditorium ceiling.
In the color and milling about, my eye picks out a basketball-size cloud of pure white puffiness across the floor, a vision that turns out to be a giant Angora rabbit named Alice.