A Complete Immersion into the World of Imagine: The Story of an Exceptional Evening at the Roman Theatre of Carthage

Hello Steemians

Sometimes it is more than just a fun night, some nights land in the memory bank and come out in the language of universal human touch, specks of light on ancient stones, and music that speaks to one's soul as well as their ears. Last night was one of those rare nights for me. I got an invitation from my versatile musician friend Dali Chebil on August 8th, 2025, and I walked into the Roman Theatre of Carthage to watch Imagine... Your Soul Hears. It was a masterclass in the power of sound not only to connect us with our roots and origins but also as an experiment, an exploration of musical language surrounded by bizarre rhythms.

The Concept Behind “Imagine... Your Soul Hears”

Imagined by artist Karim Thelebi, Imagine... Your Soul Hears is like going on an expedition of music, quietness, reverie, it delves into the recollection and its equivalency. Uniting the Tunisian Symphony Orchestra, the Tunis Opera Choir, soloists, dancers, and digital projections also intertwine ancient maqamat with contemporaneous composition as a site in which heritage is neither untouched nor dead but re-imagined, contested, and renewed. With parts focused on Palestine, and themes that span from love songs to war anthems, the show demands that its listeners take not only with their ears but their souls.

_{At the main entrance at the imposing gates of (Carthage International Festival) wearing posters and colorful banners that looked like the gateway to another planet … The world of music, light, and history emerge in them.}

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Arrival In the Event Space

Despite approaching the festival site, though, I could do sentiment vicinity. The roads leading to the theatre were abuzz with voices, chuckles, words in many tongues, and reunions of friends not seen for a month. There were coffee vendors and sweet food sellers, the smell of roasted nuts mixed with the marine night air, and everybody went in the same direction, to go to the cartridge center find his place popping up on stone of the ancient amphitheater coliseum. Even powerful beams of stage light spilling out from the theatre punctuated the gentle amber glow of streetlamps lighting the way to the entrance. The light shafts were like an invitation, stretching out into the night and as we drew nearer, I could feel and hear the low hum of excitement that was coming from within.

_{The ancient stone terraces began to fill, each one with a spectator taking his seat in surroundings as legendary as any that can be found on earth where the sound of centuries of performances resonates from every spot in the house.}

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Entering the Roman Theatre

After exiting the last security checkpoint, I walked out into the vast open area of the Roman Theatre. A place that never ceases to inspire, the huge stone semicircle with its fairly obvious open ceiling reveals vocalizations of contemporary entertainers, as well as the whispers belonging to past generations. Tonight, the ancient spoke to the modern, by stunning black on stage floor as a canvas, giant LED screens and floodlights hanging like stars in rows above. When we arrived, the hole showed a mosaic of people in fancy dress and high heels walking to their seats or empty cans and loaded guitars leaning against walls. The cool sea air moved among us, a mild reminder that this wasn't even close to the hot day it had been.

_{All of the stage was in red-white, the colors of Tunisia's flag, and almost everyone in the audience got up to sing together contributing to a general frequency that goes beyond individual identities.}

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A Patriotic Opening

Gradually the lie spread out across all with its flicked fingers weaving through every bowed head until the discotheque finally went silent at the sudden dimming of lights and then, a single note. Then they started crooning the Tunisian national anthem not belting it out, but taking it on gently, letting it find its feet. When the first chorus hit, the set lit itself with red and white flag colors. Through my seat, I could see entire families standing up in unison, hand over hearts, mouths moving with the words they knew all too well. It was huge and yet so small, a many with only one voice. It was a reminder that before music carries us to other places, it can claim us wholly as ourselves.

_{Strings, brass, percussion, they all played their part in some harmonic routine intertwining them into one breath of the stage itself.}

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The Music Takes Flight

And then a slow ballet from the writers, musicians pirates of the night: instruments glinting in white-hot stage lights white filtering cigarettes, soft percussive clatter brake his against his head. The theatre fell silent as the conductor Mohamed Bouslama raised his baton. Then a release. We basked in the first crest of sound, a full body of low strings saturating the melody, flute and violin weaving fragile tendrils through it all above, percussion driving like a second heartbeat beneath. As a result, the transitions from one to the other were perfect. At other times, the music grew gentle, inviting the spectators in to pause and reflect. At other times, extraverted bursts of energy would pour forth from the stage, and the audience would respond by clapping in time.

_{A tape typical of a shroud used to house corpses streamed images in high speed White, endless light (synths mirrored this) then dark followed by blue hues/visual effects, painting crowd muted as time seemed to slow or even stop.}

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An Atmosphere Beyond Time

The show was defined by the use of light, how shadows fell and muffled tracks turned melodies into a tangible extension of themselves. The stage at times looked almost as if it were underwater, the shade a deep, thick blue and the performers moving through it like figures in some seaworthy reverie. And in one of his sudden bursts, the whole thing would light up with gold and turn almost overworldly. That every shift in lighting mattered was also telling; they helped to reinforce the atmosphere of the scene without dominating it. And the soloists had their own sort of charismas, each was telling a story. When the violin line that had started as a murmur explodes into a wail, the delicate and airy flute would begin to sound unexpectedly sharp, its notes biting with protest. Melodies carried and dropped voices, but so too did meanings.

_{The giant screens bloomed in the colors of the Palestinian flag, and music, slow and somber, echoed like a call for solidarity and hope transmitted to all corners of the planet.}

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A Poignant Conclusion

The last part, honestly, was more of a statement than a musical ending. Images of Palestine on the screens , keffiyehs on shoulders, flag rippling in light and the music slowed, deepened. It was not even entertainment anymore, it had turned into an appeal for humanity. You could hear the melody of both heartbreak and backbone echo through the theatre, celebrating this applause as not just appreciation but affirmation, unity, a response to that song's call.

_{People More Emotional *Faces still bore on the way out, Evenings glow in all eyes, Beneath them.}

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Walking Away, Holding The Night

Low chatter filled the air as the crowd began to filter into the night. A few talked about the musicianship, some spoke to the message, but I heard no one who was unmoved. This was extra special to me, as I could share in the pride of my friend Dali Chebil being a part of this super ambitious project. The walk I made back through the lighted streets of Carthage was like a catalogue of echoes and shadows each stone musical, striped with moving paths that played. Imagine... Your Soul Hears was everything its title suggests: somewhere that listening could make you feel it in every limb, as music seeped from the walls into your veins.

_{On the way back, Tunis shimmered across the lake, its lights reflecting like colorful jewels on the calm night water.}

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Section	Information
Name	Festival International de Carthage – Imagine... Your Soul Hears
Address	Roman Odeon Theatre of Carthage
Website	Festival International de Carthage – Official Page
Google Maps 📍	Roman Theatre of Carthage
Steem Atlas 🌍	[//]:# (!steematlas 36.85770195 lat 10.3293854 long d3scr)
Opening hours	Event start: 8:30 PM — End: ~11:30 PM (specific to this show)
Last visit	08 August, 2025
Email	contact@festivaldecarthage.tn
Telephone	+216 71 902 772