Dizzy Bab's Diary

The Cucumber Issue

2011-11-11T01:27:00.001+01:00

CHARACTERS: CASEY: A man around 25, thin yet muscular, good-looking.

JANE: A female around 25.

[The scene takes place in a small dinning/living-room with an American kitchen. CASEY is lying on the couch in front of the TV, when JANE walks in. The TV’s shouting. JANE drops her bag on the floor and glances at CASEY. He’s wearing shorts. His worn-out t-shirt comes up revealing a little of his abs. JANE smiles shortly.]

TV: Do you need a new dishwasher?

[JANE groans and let out a long sigh.]

JANE: [loud to cover the TV racket.]

I’m back.

[CASEY glances shortly at her, then back at the ads on TV. JANE takes off her coat and shoes. She’s wearing formal clothes. A few minutes drops by.]

CASEY: Something in the fridge stinks.

[JANE glares at CASEY in silence. She runs her fingers through her hair. She strolls to the fridge, voluntarily walking in front of the TV. CASEY does not react. JANE bends and opens the fridge. ]

JANE: I don’t smell anything.

CASEY: I think it’s the cucumber. It must have frozen and unfrozen. I told you the fridge’s too cold.

JANE: Thank you, Casey.

[She rummages through the food, taking out a few bowls, then a cucumber.]

The cucumber is fine. It looks fresh.

[CASEY sighs heavily and turns his looks towards her, exasperated.]

CASEY: It’s not. Just throw it away…

[JANE puts the cucumber back into the fridge and closes the door, glaring at CASEY coolly.]

What…

JANE: It’s still good, I’ll eat it tomorrow for lunch.

[CASEY stands up noisily and joins JANE in front of the fridge. He scratches his belly, pulls the door open and takes the cucumber out.]

CASEY: Can’t you smell that?

[JANE glares at him.]

JANE: I can’t. It’s perfectly fine.

[CASEY looks both incredulous and annoyed.]

CASEY: Are you a pig or what?

[For a split second, they stare at each other. JANE seems on the edge of snapping.]

JANE: Fine.

[JANE grabs the cucumber and throw it violently into the waste bin, with a weird laugh.]

That’s it.

[She leaves the kitchen, sits herself on the sofa and stares blankly at the TV.]

CASEY: [nonchalant.]

Are you all right, Jane?

JANE: I’m fine.

[She does not look at him.]

CASEY: You’re sure, babe?

[CASEY scratches his head, and hesitates to come near JANE.]

JANE: Yes, I am.

[She does not look at him. He starts walking towards her, when he notices tears on her cheeks. He starts extending a hand, but meets her glaring eyes and changes his mind. A shock and incomprehension mixes on his face and he goes for the door.]

JANE: Because of you, I threw away good food.

[She sobs heavily. He scowls and leaves. Silently, JANE dries her tears.]

TV: Need to feel refreshed? Have some veggies!

Me, myself and Mike [(46), (47), (48) and (49)]

2011-10-27T17:31:00.004+02:00

(46)

He’s like a languid cat

Falling asleep

Staring at you

While you go on

Does he even care about you?

Falling asleep a

Sleeping cat

Sleepwalking

Through your night.

(47)

I see you wander in that garden alone everyday comes and goes and I linger at the window thinking what makes you walk back to that place again and again winter has killed all flowers and your soft eyes gaze away where are you going when you leave almost shy inside my window I feel small and cold not enough enough to go mad though happy life do you exist?

(48)

Autumn Hatred

When

Windy thoughts linger

Skinned down

Embracing

Red light

Over your head

and mine

Soft and brown

Agitated

howling

yet

woods engulfing laughter

Pressure

On your heart

and mine

and Mike

Slow

Down

Off

Glowing eyes

Wind grows On

Mike

Bushes full of tired roses

Through the glass I swear

The cold crawls on the black

Lake

Lacy turn of the mind

Throughout the whirlwind

Off

Dissuasion, distaste or dissatisfaction

I lie

Lie behind the schedule

Off

Your time

Throughout the good time

Offbeat

Remember, you remind

Off

Autumn.

(49)

Those strange faces are looking at me through distorting

Mirrors Mirrors

They smell of blue ice and cold matter

I have been longing longing longing

for some conversation

While I sleep

Slips my cool body

On their smooth floor

Conversation is eluding

I wonder where they've been

Before

What was it you dreaded?

Perspiration of the mind

Passenger

Longing

Dry-throat

I've been walking through this place

There

Once and

Again

Dare

You differ

Tepid

Hijacked

If you should care

Harvesting child of mine

Trigger I don’t want to talk to you

A single word

I thought before breathing

And now?

I still love your lashes.

We are Not

2011-05-04T16:45:00.006+02:00

CHARACTERS:
LOUISE: young woman, short hair, very thin, androgynous.
TERENCE: well shaved young man, very thin, almost girlish features.

[In a bedroom. TERENCE and LOUISE are both deep asleep in bed. The light is off. TERENCE’s breathing becomes short, as if suffocating, he gesticulates in his sleep, then yells. LOUISE wakes up and switches on the light. TERENCE looks haggard. LOUISE extends her hand to his face but he pushes her away. They are both sitting in bed.]

LOUISE: [casual] You don’t have to hate it that much.

[TERENCE has still troubles breathing. LOUISE grabs a bottle of water at the bedside and gives it to him.]

Here, drink slowly.

[He drinks and gives back the bottle.]

TERENCE: [after a few moments, calmer] Thank you, Louis.

[He puts both hands on his face, pressing hard against his eyes. Suddenly annoyed:]

Shit!

LOUISE: [patting him on the head, yet distant] Calm down. It’s ok.

TERENCE: Hmm. [Long pause during which she pats his head.]

Stop that, Louis.

[LOUISE stops and brings the bottle to her lips.]

LOUISE: What is it this time?

[TERENCE shrugs. She glances at him then looks away, uninterested. There’s another long pause, during which TERENCE stares in front of him absent-mindedly.]

LOUISE: Let’s have sex.

[TERENCE looks shocked.]

Don’t look so shocked. You know I’m kidding. [Pause] Wanna talk or just go back to sleep?

[He shrugs. So she lies back and puts her hands on her breast.]

I wonder how it would feel like without my boobs.

[Silence. After a few minutes, she switches off the light while he’s still sitting. ]

TERENCE: It’s too cold over here. I can’t stand it.

LOUISE: Do you want me to switch on the heater?

TERENCE: No, we won’t be able to breathe afterwards. I hate that heater.

LOUISE: I’m sorry, I don’t plan on changing it. You have central heating at your place, don’t you?

TERENCE: [annoyed] That’s not the point. Why do you talk about that? I was not complaining about your place!

LOUISE: Then let’s go back to sleep. [Silence. He lies down]

TERENCE: Why do you always do that?

LOUISE: What? [Pause]

TERENCE: Louis?

LOUISE: Hmm?

TERENCE: Why don’t you date a girl yet?

LOUISE: I don’t know.

[Pause.]

I still have too much boobs perhaps.

TERENCE: I can’t sleep. I have a cramp. In my back.

[LOUISE sighs and switches on the light again, sitting in the bed.]

LOUISE: Let me see.

[He sits in front of her in the bed and she starts touching his back lightly.]

Tell me where.

[She starts at his shoulders and goes down.]

TERENCE: Lower… on the left side...

[She reaches the lower part of his shoulder blade and he cringes.]

Right there.

[She starts massaging softly the place, in silence.]

Thanks. It feels good.

[Pause.]

My mother called me this morning. She wants to know when I’ll stop by.

[Very long pause. Low:]

Maybe I’ll go visit this weekend…

LOUISE: [slightly surprised]

You want me to drop you?

TERENCE: No, thank you, it’s ok… [Lower: ] It’s been such a long time already.

LOUISE: [with a rueful smile]

All right.

[There’s a long awkward silence.]

TERENCE: What’s up, Louis?

LOUISE: Nothing. I’m just a bit tired.

TERENCE: Hmm. You came back late last night…

LOUISE: Yes, Lorn’ wanted to go drinking.

TERENCE: Hmm. [Pause.] She’s a strange girl.

[LOUISE frowns but stays silent.]

Why do you let her call you Louise? I thought you hated it.

[She shrugs.]

LOUISE: It’s my name, I guess I have to hear it right sometimes.

[TERENCE frowns and there’s a long tense silence. LOUISE puts her arms around TERENCE’s shoulders and gives him a peck on the cheek.]

Don’t sulk. I can handle it.

TERENCE: [coolly] Whatever. I don’t care anyway, what people call you, if you’re ok with it. By the way, that guy phoned again.

LOUISE: [somewhat sad]

Again?

TERENCE: [dry] Yes, he’s annoying. I told him to stop calling.

LOUISE: You shouldn’t have.

[He looks shocked and answers coldly.]

TERENCE: Sorry for meddling.

[She sighs and does not answer for some time. Then with a short smile:]

LOUISE: I thought you found him hot. You should have asked him out when he called.

[He looks a little annoyed, but smiles though.]

TERENCE: He’s dull. Who would go for their childhood tomboyish soon-to-be-lesbian friend, when they could go out with me?

[LOUISE laughs, yet she gazes away.]

LOUISE: Hmmm… Soon-to-be-lesbian…

[She laughs again.]

He’s dull, right.

[TERENCE looks at her with a strange expression, as she still looks away.]

TERENCE: [trying to act casual] He doesn’t even try to understand.

LOUISE: Drop that.

TERENCE: But as a friend he really sucks! See how…

LOUISE: Shut up. I know you’re annoyed because you fancied him, but stop bitching.

TERENCE: [shocked] I’m not.

LOUISE: What? You’re not annoyed or you’re not bitching?

TERENCE: Well, I’m not! So you shut up!

[They both stay silent for a few minutes.]

Why do you hate your body that much?

LOUISE: Fuck you.

TERENCE: No thanks, I don’t do women.

[They pause, stare at each other and start to laugh. When they are calm again:]

I’m sorry. Don’t mind my tactless comments.

[She shrugs.]

LOUISE: I’m not a lesbian. I’m a misfit.

TERENCE: Hmmm?

LOUISE: More like I’m so uncomfortable in that body, that I don’t really know what to do with it.

TERENCE: [light] I know you want my body!

LOUISE: [with a rueful smile] Literally…

[There’s an awkward silence, during which he stares at her.]

TERENCE: I hate it when you have that look on your face.

[He looks hurt as she doesn’t react. She lies on the back staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes, he reaches across her body to turn off the light. She still does not react. Annoyed, he stops midway to the lamp, and instead grabs her breasts both hands. She doesn’t move.]

TERENCE: I like your breasts.

[Pause. He bends towards her and puts his nose on hers]

I really like to fondle them.

LOUISE: [rolling on the side] You’re acting weird, Terence. Don’t you act weird on me.

TERENCE: [staring angrily in front of him] The hell! You’re the weird one. You sleep every night with a man who won’t fuck you and say you’re not gay.

LOUISE: As I say, never mind, I’m a misfit. [Then lower and sadder] I just don’t get why you’re so angry.

TERENCE: [after a pause to consider the matter] I don’t get it either. First I thought I was jealous because you could get that jerk and not I. And I really get mad when he keeps calling.

LOUISE: [with an attempt to be cold] Yeah, I’m sorry the hot jerk fancies me.

TERENCE: Oh, shut up, you know it’s not that! Just I’m honest. When we first met, of course I hated you because he liked you. Now… now I just don’t give a damn about him. You know that!

LOUISE: Hmmm… Whatever. Let go back to sleep.

TERENCE: [angry again] Why do you do that Louis?

[She sits up.]

LOUISE: What then? What am I doing?

TERENCE: You know! We’re talking and you just ignore me.

LOUISE: [surprised] I’m not ignoring you. But you tell me, you’re angry at me yet you can’t find the reason why… What should I answer?

[TERENCE shrugs.]

TERENCE: I don’t know. Just say something! Otherwise it feels like I count for so little you don’t even try!

LOUISE: [confused] I’m sorry. Don’t be angry, you know I love you best.

TERENCE: More than your jerk of a childhood friend?

LOUISE: [nodding] Yes, more than him.

TERENCE: More than Lorn’?

LOUISE: [surprised] Sure, more than her too.

[She pats his head.]

TERENCE: [suddenly angry again] Don’t treat me like a child!

[He steps out of the bed and strides in the room.]

I am not emotionally retarded! Do you see that? Do you?

LOUISE: I…

TERENCE: No, you don’t! Just like the others, you think I’m capricious, and… and flippant like children! You have no consideration for me or my feelings! And you know why? That’s because you’re too self-centered… focused on that stupid body of yours that you hate so much!

LOUISE: [livid, yet smiling] Sure, you’re just a pet to me.

[He walks toward the bed and grab her chin in his hand.]

TERENCE: Sometimes I feel like doing you, just to show you!

LOUISE: Yes, go ahead and be rude! That would be a change!

[During a few minutes, they stare at each other tensely then he just drops his hand and goes back to his bedside without a word. They turn the light off. After a very long time:]

I’m sorry, Terence.

[The soft sound of covers being moved is heard. There is a long pause.]

I love your stomach. I love to fondle it.

[Another pause, even longer.]

TERENCE: Let’s have sex.

[There’s a sharp breath, the sound of a kiss and some shuffling of covers.]

CURTAIN

Parenthèse

2011-03-11T16:25:00.007+01:00

Toutes les choses parfaites durent exactement deux mois. Cette certitude s'imposa à moi alors que je revenais de deux mois de vacances à Dublin, l'année de mes 17 ans. Depuis elle ne m'a pas quitté.

Enfant je m'étais toujours demandé pourquoi ces amitiés qu'on noue le temps d'un été demeurent dans nos souvenirs plus sophistiquées, plus subtiles que celles qui alimentent notre quotidien. De retour de voyage, j'avais ma réponse. La perfection est dans la finitude annoncée. A la découverte naïve succède immédiatement la nostalgie de ce qu'on va bientôt perdre. Il n'y a rien à ajouter, rien à enlever. Ça commence et ça finit.

Commencer avec Louis a été d'une simplicité enfantine. Quand je le rencontrai, ce n'était plus la première fois que je m'engageais dans une de mes histoires de perfection.

Les femmes sont douées pour entretenir le ventre de leurs romances, les hommes ont presque le talent du commencement, moi j'étais passée maîtresse des conditions aux limites. Le reste n'existait pas.

Début. Je traverse la place de l'hôtel de ville, m'engage dans la rue du temple, et je tourne les yeux un instant vers l'entrée du BHV à la recherche du jeune mendiant au chat. On dirait un persan mais je n'y connais rien en race de chat. Je suis plutôt une fille à chiens. L'étui de guitare du jeune homme est toujours vide et je me demande si un jour il y a eu un instrument... Quelqu'un me heurte de plein fouet.

Trois jours plus tard, je me réveille dans une chambre étrange et je fixe la peinture blanche craquelée au plafond. A côté de moi, il respire profondément. J'aime bien la température de la pièce et la vue par la fenêtre sur des immeubles que je reconnais sans avoir envie de mettre de noms dessus. Je repense au professeur qui m'a initié aux rudiments du violon : "Un son c'est un début et une fin dans le silence." Je ne sais plus exactement si c'est ce qu'il a dit, mais ce matin je perçois quelque part entre mon diaphragme et mes côtes flottantes le début de la course de l'archer sur la corde de Ré.

On ne se souvient que des choses qui ont du sens. C'est un biais, on se raconte des histoires sur ce qu'on a vécu à la façon d'un romancier qui met là les évènements, indices du dénouement. Je préfère croire qu'il n'y a pas de sens, pas de cohérence, seulement ce que l'on choisit. Parfois j'essaie de voir le reste, le rien, l'absence de logique mais c'est comme écarquiller les yeux dans le noir... ce qu'on voit, c'est encore ce qui attrape la lumière.

Quand il lit, c'est moi qui lis. Sa voix légère se mue avec ma voix intérieure et quand je l'interromps je suis presque surprise de m'entendre. J'avais oublié que j'étais là, ou qu'il était là. D'ordinaire j'ai horreur d'écouter les autres lire, je me sens dépossédée des mots.

Louis a un drôle de regard, on ne sait jamais bien ce qu'il cherche, mais il cherche. Un jour j'ai eu envie de lui expliquer ce qu'est la perfection - c'est peut-être ça qu'il veut - mais finalement je n'ai pas osé changer ce regard.

Dans le métro, je parcours des yeux la forme de ses orbites, la courbe de sa mâchoire, l'arête de son nez. Il ouvre tout grand les yeux quand il me parle et la raideur de ses épaules s'accompagne d'un tressautement machinal de ses doigts étrangement courts. Tout contraste avec la façon dont il fait descendre ses paupières avec une extrême lenteur quand il écoute.

On traverse la place devant la cathédrale, se frôlant à peine, on longe les quais et on traverse le pont au Double. Il n'est jamais là où on l'attend. Entracte. Peut-être qu'il sait qu'il ne reste plus que le déclin.

Si on fait un noeud consciencieusement, il faut du temps pour le défaire. Ceux qui croient pouvoir tricher en coupant court, savent-ils ce qu'ils perdent ? Quand on prépare son départ avec autant de minutie que j'ai appris à le faire, on a la chance de voir ce qu'on ne peut pas voir sinon. On traverse une rue et soudain un banc nous parait si spécial qu'on doit s'asseoir et regarder au moins une fois, pour ne pas partir sans avoir vu.

Louis lit doucement et je distingue des inflexions étranges dans sa voix. Quand je pose la question, il me dévisage comme si l'étrangeté était mienne. J'hausse les épaules, et bientôt je somnole au son des mots dont il m'a dépossédé.

Je m'efforce de tout retenir en moi, parce que bientôt il ne restera plus que le souvenir comme preuve que je n'ai rien rêvé, mais le sommeil m'empêche d'être lucide. Et puis, quoi, si j'ai rêvé ?

On remonte le quai des Grands Augustins en respirant profondément. Louis regarde la Seine par dessus ma tête et semble si loin. Je lui jette quelques regards de biais, caressant une fois encore la ciselure de son profil. Avec le temps il aura sûrement les joues plus charnues et le dos un peu voûté. Et bizarrement pour compenser il se mettra à porter des mocassins parfaitement cirés.

Toutes les choses parfaites durent exactement deux mois. Je souris et m'éloigne un peu. Après un regard à la Seine, je traverse le Pont Neuf.

Circonstances

2011-01-15T11:57:00.001+01:00

On aurait pu avoir une aventure, dit-elle.

Elle lit dans ses yeux le choc et sourit. C’était il y a dix ans et elle ne sait pas trop pourquoi elle dit ça. Mais c’est ce qu’elle ressent en revoyant ces grands yeux noirs.

Une aventure ? il demande.

On dirait qu’il entrevoit une chasse aux dragons. Il a toujours été un peu chevalier. Elle rit. C’est curieux de se revoir comme ça. Elle n’aime pas trop cette actualité pressante et le regard d’étranger qu’il pose sur elle.

Tant pis, je l’aurais au moins dit, soupire-t-elle.

Quelque chose de drôle lui traverse l’esprit et il tend la main vers elle. Comme une attente de ce qui n’est jamais venu et qui arrive trop vite. Elle n’y croit pas vraiment. Du bout de ses doigts maigres, il balaie son épaule.

Une plume, souffle-t-il.

Oh, une plume… Elle s’envole.

Me, myself and Mike [(43), (44) and (45)]

2011-01-02T01:22:00.004+01:00

(43)

Mike is back
In my
Night
Frightful story of
I-hate-your-blue-smell
And city knowledge
Dancing icecubes and
plastic glasses
Severing ties
Hate
hate
hate
Hateful diagnosis of
my child's syndrome
When judgement poisons the mind
You're still my favorite...

(44)
Child like whisper
through the life
Mike
At the back
Staring blankly
Black smile or twisting mind
What I hate
What I love
I don't give a
Damn

(45)
I don't need your hate to live on
I'd rather leave
Behind
My scheduled time
Behind
Your corridor
Of a mind
Narrow
Blanket
Cold night

of

Your arms
Tasting your sweet hatred
Better than
Fine
Nevermind
Never mine.

Fall's Butterfly

2010-12-15T16:31:00.004+01:00

Dale had just turned 19. She was a soft looking teenager everyone made fun of. With her large blue eyes, and sweet expression no one ever took her seriously. In shops, people often treated her as a child, and her mother couldn’t help pat her smooth head with an idiotic smile on her face. “That’s my pretty doll.” As if neighbors and friends didn’t know already.

Dale bit her lips, as she walked up Grafton Street. Fall was all over Dublin, cold and red, reminding her how things had to come to an end whatever you did. She loved that season.

Halloween’s pumpkins grinned at her from every shop’s window. She glanced at her orange finger nails polish with satisfaction. She felt weird. Something so vain… It made her feel better. She sighed. She felt like a puppy. Hollow. Strange how she could still marvel at details, huh? She was superficial.

Dale laughed aloud, her thin fingers brushing through her red hair. She couldn’t remember when she’d starting doing this. Surely after she’d grown her hair long again, to please her mother. It was high time she started to act more like a lady, she’d said. Was it? Wasn’t that kind of thinking outdated? She shook her head. It was no use getting annoyed over that. It was so long ago.

The girl reached St Stephen’s Green and glanced at the mall on her right side. Last time she’d been in was with Rori. Had she ever gone there on her own? She didn’t remember. How depressing… Rori never forgot things. Rori could call up any memories from their teenage. She bit her lips again and kicked some dust. Some pigeons stared at her curiously. She felt ludicrous. Childish. She crossed the street and entered the park with a sigh. It wasn’t especially wide, but the trees were so beautiful during autumn, she loved sitting on a bench to watch the passers-by walk through and the kids play tag. She tried to imagine Rori run wild as a child, but strangely she couldn’t. It made her a little sad to realize how little she actually knew about the other girl.

“Well, you’re it.” A boy cried out and escaped.

Yes, she was it and trying to catch Rori while that girl kept eluding her wasn’t always a fair game.

The lady on the bench lit a cigarette and took a deep breath staring blankly in front of her. Dale leveled her chin and met the empty black gaze with curiosity. The woman had soft brown hair and dark eyes that made her look foreign in the country of red hair and freckles. Dale twisted her mouth at the stupidity of her own reflections and looked away. Yet her eyes crawled back to the stranger’s face. There was something appealing in the way her white hand brought the cigarette to her red mouth in a slow casual gesture. She wore deep red nail polish that matched her lipstick.

Dale walked to the bench and sat herself decidedly. Why? She shrugged to herself. She wanted to prolong this unusual moment. It was tasty. She had a weird smile. The woman took another drag, and flipped her hand gracefully to get rid of the ashes. Dale coughed.

“You’re unused to the smell…” The lady noticed.

Dale nodded, with a shy look.

“I don’t smoke.”

A distant smile brushed on the woman’s lips, as she exhales.

“I would have been surprised if you did.”

Would that lady show surprise at anything? Dale found the very notion confusing. She tried to read her expression from the side but got lost in the contemplation of her profile. It had neither youth nor unexceptionable beauty but it was outrageously human. Fascinating.

“I’m Dale,” she heard herself offer half apologetic.

“Maddie. Nice to meet you, Dale.”

Having her name devoured so easily made the girl squirm a little. She blushed slightly and turned an absent gaze to the birds fluttering in the trees. The woman took another long drag at her cigarette but her eyes remained still. Dale thought of Rori and how completely opposite to that woman she looked. Rori’s blond hair and pale skin gave off a feeling of genuine purity. It was entrancing. Like very young children... Dale smiled to herself.

“You’re in love?”

Dale turned toward the woman with shock.

“Everyone at your age is…”

The short smirk she flashed the girl meant something different. She took another drag, aloof.

After a cool moment, Dale twisted her head a little, falsely casual.

“It does not mean anything…”

“Hmm…”

The woman eyes fluttered. Was she still there?

“I learned to notice such things.”

Dale stopped for a few minutes, thoughtful. A plump boy kicked a ball and burst out laughing. His clothes were all muddy.

“From your job?”

Maddie’s face froze and she dropped the butt of her cigarette on the ground.

“From work…”

Was that a yes? It sounded more like a question. Dale didn’t want to talk about her personal issues yet she felt an urge to know about her nonchalant companion. Selfish as usual… She shook her head impatiently.

“I’m a student… What’s your job?” she tried out.

The older woman’s eyes followed a toddler for a few seconds before she answered.

“I catch butterflies.”

Dale’s eyes went round as she stared at the lady expecting her to laugh off her own words. But her expression remained mute, as she silently caressed the rim of her coat. Passers-by threw glances at the two women as they went through the park. It was a little unnerving. Dale squirmed. Again.

“So you go to places and bring rare species, or something like that?” Dale explained aloud.

Maddie nodded in silence. The girl’s surprise turned into genuine marvel, as she pictured a green field full of colorful sparks. It reminded her of some cartoons she used to watch as a child. Rori would look good in such a situation, she observed silently.

“I wish I could do this!”

Maddie glanced at her, a wry smile twisting her otherwise still mouth.

“I don’t think you would like it.”

Dale pouted.

“Maybe not…”

She paused to give it a thought yet got lost in her own wandering reflections. She was always the one doing all the running and catching. Well, did she really like it? She shook her head with a pang of annoyance. She was too greedy. She lifted her head and met Maddie’s curious gaze on her.

“It’s tiring being the one to run, is it?” Maddie stated more than she asked.

Dale shrugged again, not knowing what to answer. She wanted the older woman to go on. There was something soothing in her words. But after a few minutes it seemed like nothing more would come out of the red lips.

“Then why do you do it? I mean, if you find it tiring…”

Maddie smiled again. That wry twisted smile.

“Don’t we all like chasing after what’s beautiful?”

The girl tried to consider the question seriously for a few minutes, chewing her lips a little while she thought. It made the woman laugh. Yet she finally came out with something she didn’t felt ashamed of.

“No, we run after what we lack. And you’re beautiful.”

The woman laughed coolly this time.

“It pays well.”

“You could do something else. You’re pretty.”

“Well, still it pays.”

Dale frowned, but Maddie brushed it off with a hand flip.

“You’re young. It’s sweet.”

Dale stared at her orange nails blankly. She hated it. As if, because of her age, her feelings were just half feelings. She noticed Maddie’s gaze on her profile and turned a little to face her. Challenging.

“I’m not that young. I turned nineteen last week.”

Maddie nodded with a genuine smile.

“I remember when I was your age. Everything tasted better.”

“My life taste like pumpkin. I hate it.”

Maddie laughed a little.

“You’re a strange girl… I don’t understand what you mean.”

Dale shrugged, pouting.

“Pumpkin has such a bright color, you always expect it to taste more!”

Maddie laughed again sweetly, drawing a blush from the girl.

“I’m childish, I know. But whatever, it’s just how I feel…”

“Get yourself a chocolate life then,” the woman joked.

Dale’s face brightened.

“Looks like mud but tastes great!”

The women exchange a sweet look and for a split second Dale felt relieved. A girl in the park threw a ball for her beagle that went running with happy yapping. Maddie took out another cigarette and lit it.

“Doesn’t it taste like ashes?”

“Worse.”

“Then why do you smoke?”

“I’ve lost my taste a long time ago.”

Dale shut up a few minutes, trying to figure out what the woman’s life could be like. There was a feeling of incompleteness in her life, yet nothing that could deprive her of the sweet joys of small things. Even without Rori, she could still laugh, or couldn’t she?

“You’re thinking about that again,” Maddie notice with a knowing smile. “So you have a boyfriend?”

Dale blushed and shook her head. She didn’t really know what she felt, so talking about it was halfway between impossible and indecent for her.

“How is it to catch butterflies, if you dislike it?” she came out again.

Maddie shrugged, and stared at the girl with the dog indifferently.

“Do you hurt them?”

“Yes.”

Maddie didn’t smile. She remained still like a doll, not even looking at the dog anymore. Dale shuddered.

“Why?”

“It’s like that. And it brings some people pleasure.”

Dale thought of Rori. Was it ok to hurt someone, because you wanted to shackle them? But who shackled whom? Wasn’t it beauty that possessed you in the end?

“But you kill them?”

There was reproach in her ton despite herself.

“Do you know how long a butterfly lives?”

“No, I…”

“Only a few days, I don’t really deprive them of anything. And then, they exist almost forever…”

“Don’t you feel pity? Aren’t you sad to hurt them?” she pleaded with a pang of despair in the voice.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because we all hurt others. That’s how you know you’re still in there.”

Dale’s shocked expression met Maddie’s cool gaze as the lady took a long drag.

“I don’t understand you,” the girl lied.

Maddie glanced at her with a dubious grin.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just tired.”

“But why? I mean you dislike being hurt don’t you?”

“Maybe not that much.”

Maddie grabbed the girl’s wrist and dug her long nails into the soft flesh.

“See, you feel you’re alive.”

“There are other ways!”

Dale felt a rush of anger merge with her feeling of uselessness.

“You’re young. That’s sweet.”

“No, butterflies are so pretty, don’t you feel ashamed killing them?” Dale tried again pitifully.

“People find them pretty, that’s why they like to collect them. I just give them what they want. As far as I am concerned I hate them. I find them disgusting.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They aren’t even entertaining. Beauty is boring... Pain is different. Haven’t you noticed how it’s always the best part in love?”

Dale searched the woman’s expression with anguish. She felt out of breath, for some unclear reasons. She didn’t want to hear the words that followed. It frightened her.

“I kissed someone… hmm… by accident,” she changed the subject.

“By accident?”

Maddie laughed, almost whole-heartedly. Such a relief. Dale giggled. Strangely saying it in this nonchalant way made it feel like it wasn’t so serious. She wasn’t so serious.

“Well, it’s about companionship I think…”

Maddie’s blurry gaze focused on Dale swiftly.

“It is strong, so I guess it feels like love.”

“Then why shouldn’t it be love?” the woman asked with simple curiosity.

Dale shrugged.

“You’re weak. Strange… I don’t remember being like this at your age.”

Dale’s face froze in plain shock, a pang of anger twisting her pretty mouth.

“How can you know anything,” she replied coolly.

“I know a coward when I see one.”

There was neither annoyance nor judgment in the woman’s words. It was only a plain statement. And the sentence hurt like a slap, even coming from a stranger. Dale bit her lips, avoiding the woman’s cruelly indifferent eyes.

“You just don’t give a damn whom you hurt. It’s easy for you,” she stammered.

A cold laugh escaped Maddie’s mouth.

“You’re right, it’s easy for me. I’m already old, so I don’t expect much anymore…”

“So you think it gives you the right to hurt others?” Dale had to go on.

Maddie laughed again.

“I definitely think it’s all right to hurt others. To hurt myself…”

“You’re mad.”

The lady smiled calmly.

“Am I? Yet I ask for what I want. You’re just too afraid to desire.”

“Am I?” Dale tried to mimic the elder woman.

“You’ll end up getting nothing.”

Dale felt uneasy. The dog’s barks annoyed her a little. She couldn’t think straight with the noise.

“You don’t know anything,” she repeated lamely.

“You’re right. It’s none of my concern. I have my lives and I do what I have to do. I might dislike what I am, but at least I am not a disgusting hypocritical weakling.”

“Well, I’m not that either!”

“If you say so.”

Still no anger in the woman’s ton. Dale felt cold. Bruised.

“You’re dirty. Everyone must hate you.”

The woman got pale with anger.

“The only one you’re afraid to hurt, little girl, is yourself. You don’t even try, so that there’s no risk you’ll lose anything. You’re the dirty one.”

Dale blushed.

“I… I…”

“Shut up! Decide what you want, and stop making those puppy eyes! Everyone has to make hard choices…”

Maddie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, with a nervous move. For a few seconds, she looked unsettled. Then her gaze came back to the running dog and her breathing calmed down a little. When she talked again, she was cool again.

“What is it you want?”

Dale shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to ask herself the question. It felt weird. So she answered off beam.

“I don’t know what love is. Is it fascination, or companionship, or relationship, or sex?”

Maddie looked disappointed and shrugged.

“It’s whatever you decide it to be.”

Dale’s perplexed eyes remained on the other woman as if expecting something more, but Maddie shook her head.

“Whatever it’s getting late and I don’t know much…”

“Can I touch your hair?”

Maddie looked surprised, but her face relaxed a little when she met Dale’s genuine look.

“Go ahead.”

Dale’s timid fingers went through the lady’s hair twice.

“I’m sorry…”

Maddie’s voice was strangely soft… Like her hair.

She paused for a few minutes then suddenly resumed her talking.

“Know what? You want a good way to get rid of this? Offer your friend a box of chocolates and put all your feelings in it. Don’t accept to share any of them! Then when all your feelings have been eaten there’s nothing left for you to torment yourself about.”

She got up with a weird throaty laugh.

“Then it’s just over, isn’t it?” Dale couldn’t help but ask.

She disliked the notion.

“It is. But you’re not the one with the bittersweet taste in the mouth.”

Maddie laughed again, but Dale only stared at the beagle that kept going back to her young mistress. Run and catch.

Diane au loup

2010-10-23T20:02:00.000+02:00

Perfection de ton corps absolu

Dissout

Ce qu’il manque c’est

Une âme similaire

Dissolue

Nue

Chaleur d’un corps familier

Proche

S’y confondre, être à soi

Petits élans de partage

Bleus

Recul

Diane moins chasseresse

Apprivoise

(Loi)

Les loups libres assoupis

Comme une morsure…

Solitaire, tu passes et te couches

Défiance…

………………......

Ne l’attache pas

Tu aimes sa peau laiteuse dormante

Et elle… ton museau froid

Ne fuis pas

Pas…

Pas de doute

Sauvage

Elle est fidèle comme le chaud et le froid

De ton pelage

Sauvé

Ne cherche pas de meute

Dans ses yeux gris

Le loup

Fuis la lune au matin

Pas de jeux de proie

Diane vagabonde

Dans les bois

…Qui court le plus vite ?

Mon joli chat aux yeux gris

2010-05-01T14:04:00.000+02:00

J’ai laissé une trappe ouverte pour que tu puisses entrer

Joli chat

J’aime tes yeux gris et

Tes coups de griffes

Quand on t’ennuie.

Parfois la nuit

Chat de ma vie

Je t’entends rentrer et je

Souris

Quand tu t’endors

Au pied du lit.

Chat cruel

J’aime tes yeux gris

Avides et clairs

Comme tu me dévores

Les ailes.

Silencieux chat de minuit

Tes grands yeux doux

Me semblent hagards.

J’ai laissé une lucarne secrète pour que tu puisses rentrer

Mon joli chat

Si tu la trouves

Tu es à moi !

Me, myself and Mike (42)

2010-03-27T18:46:00.001+01:00

(42)

I’m a hooker

I love to see them linger at my door

I’ve got much to sell

If you know how to look at me

I’ll give you anything you like

Hooker or trollop

They’ll call me

Yet they ring my bell

Anytime or late at night

It makes me laugh to hear them breath

As they don’t say my name

Hooker

Pay me right

And I’ll laugh all you want

Hooker I call myself

When I smile for a bit of

Anything or love

What are we ready to do

To get away with one’s own self

Anything but lonely

Anything or hooker

Let’s think

Anything or Mike.

Me, myself and Mike [(38), (39), (40) and (41)]

2010-03-27T17:57:00.000+01:00

(38)

I like to play games
In the morning
J'enfile la vie des autres
A défaut d'enfiler
Their skins
I fancy myself in their clothes.

(39)

My mind went in a single curve around and around

Your face

I thought it might hurt

Yet it didn't

It was smoother than I thought

First

Thinking of that makes me happy

Or does it?

Where were you when I waited

I thought

You might end up forgiving me

Yet what about me?

I don't forget easily

I try to smile

But it hurts to fake it again and again

And Again.

(40)

You never show me what you think

Is it blue I wonder sometimes

Is it round ?

You never show me around your mind

It makes me curious and I laugh

It makes me serious and sad

Why don't you talk a little more

And tell me what it is you're expecting.

Why won't you set me free if you

Don't want to talk with me.

Or is it the game I thought I played

Getting back at me?

I wonder how it ended like this

Me and you

You and me.

(41)

Knowing what you think

Would that make it easier?

But I don't

Staring straight into your eyes

What should I see?

Isn't it strange, we thought getting in touch was simple

But I don't touch you

You don't?

Hurt me

If you like step onto me

Maybe I'll get to know you then

Pain

Would that make it easier?

Staring straight into your face

What should I feel?

Tired

I'll fake it

Away

Will you see through?

Me, myself, and

You?

Of course I'm on my own

Again, I'm on my own

Thinking through this blank afternoon

Don't you!

We're selfish

We're fake

Only

Me, myself and Mike.

Me, myself and Mike [(34), (35), (36) and (37)]

2010-03-20T12:29:00.000+01:00

(34)

Mike is looking

At me ?

Through a window

I wave

Like he’d see me

Looking through the window

Weeping ?

I face the same way

Like a window.

(35)

For once try to say some

Thing new

Something that may interest me

Not you.

(36)

I am famished I starve for Mike yet I never hunger long greedy you say?

I like to play hide and seek yet I get bored quick maybe you sway?

I’m sorry Mike sometimes I forget about you

And I forget about you too

You lost your number one fan.

(37)

I walk home following the same curve everyday from the beginning to the end nothing changes but me.

Exsangue, absente, ailleurs, en attente

Alone, abashed, safely, unknown.

Me, myself and Mike [(30), (31), (32) and (33)]

2010-03-07T22:54:00.000+01:00

(30)

I met myself online

It felt weird

Weirder than me

Not really

Weirder than Mike

I met myself

Again I thought

When I saw it was but

I felt lonely.

(31)

You call me

Menteuse

Yet what about you

Menteuse

Does that make you laugh

Does that make you Dizzy

Liar you say

Ca t’amuse

If only it could make you leave.

(32)

I love to pick up small stones, while I walk the path. Most of all in the river. They shine through the water and catch my eyes. I’m unable to resist. Small pretty stones, I walk down the alley watching them keenly in my hands, sweet pleasure of possession. Yet they dry and get ugly. I get bored. I get sad. I get lonesome. I leave my life behind.

(33)

My favorite landscape

Is the one that spread through your mind

Sometimes it is blurry

Sometimes vain and blue

And laughing or cool

But never boring to me.

My favorite landscape

Spreads with no limit

Towards the sees and hills

Or through the kitchen and streets

Dying in reddened light

As I walk to the door I so like.

My favorite landscape

Loves trees in fall and

Makes me curious to read

Your mind still like lake water

I'll give up sunsets and crimson dawns

To lie down or walk through that favorite landscape.

Me, myself and Mike [(27), (28) and (29)]

2010-02-16T23:37:00.001+01:00

(27)

I attract the needy

Do I look strong to you

But I do

Mike

Hold your head

For me

As they feed

I glide along with their weakness

And softly share and share

About my being weak

As they breathe

Hold your head

It makes you easy

But me?

(28)

I miss Tokyo as others miss air

I look up but the last flat’s light’s gone out

The buildings here are too small

They don’t make me Dizzy as I like Mike

I want the smell of Asakusa’s streets

The light of Shinjuku and

The mass of strangers making me feel home

I miss some

Of myself

Something left behind

Me.

(29)

One lethal blow

Coming from nowhere

Enough to destroy the beauty of illusion

And Mike drowns itself in my tears

As I look back on

Everything that is not empty

Or alone

Mike would smile at me

If no one would

Mike deserves what I deserve

Nothing

More!

Nothing less…

Mike is mercy

On me

Mike is

No longer

Won’t come back

The Whole

Where am I?

What's left behind

2010-02-15T22:09:00.005+01:00

Act 1 – In a train wagon
                   PHOENIX: A woman around 25, wearing a suit.
                   PETER: A man looking slightly younger, very handsome.

            [PHOENIX is sitting on the train, looking through the window. She brings her hands to her eyes and a tiny sob breaks the silence. PETER comes in and walks toward her. He puts his coat on the seat facing her. He hesitates to sit down, when PHOENIX sobs again.]
PETER:          Are you alright, Miss?
            [PHOENIX brushes her hand against her face in a brusque move, before turning a smiling face toward the man. When her eyes meet PETER’s, her smile breaks a little and she looks stunned. PETER’s lips part a little.]
PHOENIX:    Peter?  What… what a surprise…
            [She seems displeased, yet goes on, forcing a smile back on her face:]
                        How do you do?
PETER: [slightly surprised:]
                        Hmm… fine and you?
PHOENIX: [She coughs a little.]
                        Fine, fine.
            [She pauses and stares out her window, wringing her fingers.]
PETER: [embarrassed:]
                        So you’re going to Paris? It’s funny that we should meet in such a place.
            [Her gaze gets back on him.]
PHOENIX:    Yes, strange since we haven’t met in more than six years though we both live and work in the same city now…
PETER:          London is pretty big, you know…
PHOENIX: [thoughtful:]
                        It is…
            [She suddenly shakes her head and bites her lower lips, embarrassed.]
                        Sorry, I’m a bit gloomy! Today’s not my day…
            [She flashes an apologetic smile at him. He twists a little in his chair to face her better. She goes on, suddenly enthusiastic:]
            It’s been quite a long time since I’ve had some news! What are you doing now? Did you get your big role?
            [Peter grunts.]
            I don’t go much to the theatre so I didn’t know… I might have missed it…
            [She blushes a little, as if she’d said too much.]
PETER:          You haven’t missed anything. I’m still doing small parts only, though now I’m a regular at the Blue Company.
            [He pauses then adds:]
                        Sometime soon, I’m supposed to get the leading role…
            [PHOENIX smiles softly. PETER fidgets in his seat. A long pause follows during which PHOENIX closes her eyes, with an expression of pain twisting her mouth. When she opens them, she rummages in her bags, takes out a bottle of water and gobbles up two white tablets.]
PETER:          Aspirins?
            [She nods.]
                        I haven’t lost my ability to give you headaches.
            [She laughs whole-heartedly and PETER’s eyes twinkle.]
PHOENIX:    But neither the one to make me laugh!
            [She winks playfully and shows the aspirin pack, before putting it back into her messy bag.]
            I don’t offer you any.
PETER:          No, thanks.
            [They both pause for a few minutes, not making eye-contact. She sighs low, and he twists again, stretching his long legs.]
                        How about your job?
            [She shrugs.]
                        Financial consulting, is that it?
            [She nods, uninterested.]
                        Money mustn’t be an issue for you…
PHOENIX: [Still uninterested:]
                        It isn’t.
            [She bites her lips, and for a split second, she seems on the verge of tears. Yet when she turns her head back to face PETER, she’s unaffected. She snaps though:]
                        Seems like I don’t really have issues.
            [PETER frowns deeply and flashes her a cold look.]
PETER:          That’s not what I said.
            [Pause. She starts to say something yet stops before a word comes out.]
                        Gosh, you weren’t such a jerk back then.
            [She glares at him as he stands up and walks out, then puts a trembling hand on her forehead and eyes. She sighs heavily. After a rather long pause, her cellular phone rings. She takes it out of her bag, checks the number on the screen, frowns and brings it to her ear.]
PHOENIX:    Bonjour, Phoenix Summer, Madame Bertrand?
            [Pause.]
                        Yes, I’m on my way, I’ll be there around 3 in the afternoon. I’m glad the place was available right away.
            [Pause.]
                        Yes my parents were pretty pleased last time.
            [Pause.]
                        Three months, yes… I’m taking a break from work…
            [She laughs a little, ruefully.]
                        Yes a well deserved holiday…
            [Pause.]
                        I’ll be sure to tell them. Right, I’ll see you this afternoon.
            [She hangs up and sighs heavily again. Her gaze flies to her reflection in the window. With a few brusque gestures, she puts her hair in order. PETER comes in at this time, making her jump.]
PETER:          Sorry about that.
            [He searches her face, intently.]
PHOENIX:     Never mind, I’m a bit tense.
            [He sits himself down, holds out a coke can to her and opens one for himself.]
PETER:           You didn’t switch to diet coke, did you?
            [She shakes her head and a gurgle of laughter escapes her throat.]
PHOENIX: Thanks.
            [Then with a guilty grimace:]
                        Sorry about earlier.
            [He shrugs and smiles hesitantly. She opens her can.]
PETER:          So how’s your work? Or is that a taboo question?
PHOENIX: [She sips some coke, then twists her head a little.]
                        No, it’s all right. Not quite fulfilling, but that’s because of me, not because of the job I guess…
            [She sighs a little, then, embarrassed, laughs softly.]
                        Sorry, again. It feels like I’ve grown old. I’m not very good company.
            [PETER shrugs again but looks unsettled.]
PETER:          Well, we’ve all grown old. Look at me…
            [He pauses.]
PHOENIX: [sweetly:]
                        You look good.
            [She blushes and adds:]
                        I mean you still look young and enthusiastic. Like you have plenty of time left to…
            [She stops midway, suddenly confused. Her eyes go out of focus, and she swallows with difficulty. PETER watches her, slightly anguished, not daring to talk. There’s a long silence during which she stares blankly out of the window, while he gazes at her profile.]
PETER: [softly:]
            What’s up Phoenix? You’re not all right, are you?
PHOENIX: [very low:]
            I’m fine.
            [PETER fidgets uneasily yet keeps his eyes on her. A few tears run down her cheeks but she brushes them away with the back of her hand. PETER coughs and averts his eyes.]
PETER:          It’s ok to be a bit out of it sometimes. See, I’ve just turned 26, and I haven’t had a single meaningful role so far! And now my company’s gone to New York to perform but hasn’t taken me along. But that’s not enough, my flat mate just kicked me out and I have no cash at all to rent a new place on my own…So I’m left for the next few months with nothing to do and no place to crash at.    [He starts to laugh nonchalantly but chokes himself when he sees she’s weeping even more. He passes a hand through his hair with a nervous gesture. PHOENIX brushes away her tears again and forces a grin on her reddened face.]
PHOENIX:    That’s harsh, what about your mom?
PETER: [slightly relieved:]
                        I can’t. She just got remarried…
            [PHOENIX’s mouth makes a surprised “oh” as PETER’s eyes meet hers steadily.]
PHOENIX: [over-enthusiastic:]
                        That’s great!
PETER:          Depends for whom…
PHOENIX: [innocently:]
                        Oh, I’m sorry. I mean, it’s good for her…
            [PETER smiles ruefully.]
PETER:          Yeah, you’re right. It just happened to be bad timing for me.
            [She nods, thoughtful.]
PHOENIX:    Why are you going to Paris, then?
            [He shrugs.]
PETER:          I got a few friends, who told me to drop by any time so…
            [He pauses.]
                        I’ll try and stay there a week or two…
            [He pauses.]
                        Did you write that book?
            [She turns her eyes away from him.]
PHOENIX:    No. I didn’t have the time, nor the will.
            [They relapse into silence.]
                        You want to crash at my place?
            [She blushes.]
                        I mean, you can have the keys of my London flat.
            [She pauses shortly.]
                        I’m leaving town for a few months, so it’s free…
            [PETER looks stunned for a split second then gazes at her with a serious expression. PHOENIX rummages through her handbag and take out a bunch of keys.]
PETER:          I don’t know what’s up with you Phoenix…
PHOENIX:    Well, nothing. It’s just that if it can help you, I don’t see the problem.
PETER:          You don’t see the problem in giving your flat keys to a man you haven’t seen in seven years?
            [She shrugs and stares blankly at him.]
PHOENIX:    I trust you.
PETER:          That’s not the point.
PHOENIX:    I don’t have anything valuable.
PETER:          That’s not the issue either.
PHOENIX: [annoyed:]
                        I don’t need any of it anyway!
            [Her eyes sparkle with tears but she forces them back. PETER gives her a shocked look yet says nothing.]
                        Do you want them, or what?
PETER:          No.
PHOENIX: [mad:]
                        I’m not expecting anything in return, you know!
PETER:          I know. That’s not why I’m refusing.
            [She shrugs and puts the keys back into her bag. She goes back to staring out the window. He gazes at her for a few minutes.]
PETER:          What are you going to do during the months you’re not inLondon? Are you staying in Paris?
PHOENIX:    I’m gonna stay in the Alpes for a few months… see if I can write something interesting bef…
            [She stops.]
PETER:          Before what?
PHOENIX:    Nothing.
            [He watches her as she presses her lips against her closed fist.]
PETER:          You already had that tic back then. I thought it made you look intellectual.
            [She laughs a little.]
PHOENIX:    Thanks, now I know why you rejected me.
            [He’s going to say something but she cuts him.]
                        Don’t worry, I was young and foolish. Now I’m ok. I’m not gonna come after you.
            [She grins.]
PETER: [pensive:]
                        I thought you were getting married…
PHOENIX:    We broke up.
            [They both pause, absorbed by their inner thoughts. From time to time, PETER glances at her, as she wrings her fingers. Suddenly, he smiles sweetly.]
PETER:          I liked your writing.   The words sounded like they were molded for me…
            [She gives a short laugh, but avoids his gaze. He watches her in silence for some long moments. Then he asks with a low serious voice:]
                        What’s wrong with you, Phoenix?
PHOENIX: [She withstands his gaze for a few minutes before answering coolly:]
                        I’ve got brain cancer. I’ve got 2 or 3 months left.


Act 2 – In the main room of a small chalet.
                  PHOENIX: Wearing pajamas.
                   PETER: Wearing jeans and T-shirt.

            [PHOENIX is sitting at the table in front of her laptop. PETER is lying on the sofa, his eyes closed. PHOENIX types in silence for a few minutes before stretching with a loud yawn.]
PHOENIX:    That’s it for this morning.
PETER: [without opening his eyes:]
                        You’re done?
PHOENIX:    Yes. I’ll start over around five.
PETER:          Cool, how long before you’re dressed and all?
            [He groans.]
                        Lunch’s already ready…
             [She laughs nonchalantly.]
PHOENIX:    I’m sorry, I know you’re hungry. You should have gone ahead and started eating.
            [He grunts and sits in the sofa.]
PETER:          As I only accepted to stay here to work for you, I don’t think I could have, no!
            [PHOENIX flashes him a slightly annoyed look.]
PHOENIX:    If you say that again, I’ll start paying you wages for every chore you do in the house.
PETER:          Then I’ll pay you the rent.
PHOENIX:    Ok, ok, stop that, I’ll get changed at once.
            [She walks out of the room after removing the computer from the table. PETER stands up and lays the table for two. Then, waiting for her to come back, he strolls through the room putting back things in place here and checking a magazine there. With a sigh, he stops in front of the computer and hesitates to take a look. He sits on the sofa with another sigh, and lets his head hang backward, keeping his eyes wide opened.]
PETER:          What the hell am I doing here?
            [He jumps up again, walks to the door through which she’s left, reaches for the door, but changes his mind.]
                        Phoenix, aren’t you done yet?
PHOENIX: [From the other side of the door:]
                        Almost, I’m putting on my jeans!
            [Some footsteps are heard and she comes back in, wearing jeans and T-shirt, her hair still wet.]
PETER: [with a hint of impatience:]
                        Shouldn’t you dry your hair? You’ve already got a cold.
PHOENIX: [laughing:]
                        You’re such a worrywart! It’s almost dry, it’s ok.
            [She coughs a little. He walks to her and takes a few strands of her hair in his large hands.]
PETER:          You call that almost dry? They’re still soaked.
            [He strides out of the room. He comes back with a towel that he throws at her astonished face. She coughs a little once more.]
                        Here you go. Rub your head!
            [She obeys in a daze. He brings food to the table, avoiding her eyes. He then sits himself at the table and scrutinizes her as she dries her hair conscientiously. Once she’s done, she drops the towel on a chair, and sits down facing him. She smiles shyly as he keeps gazing at her.]
PHOENIX:    Thanks.
            [She glances at the food and grins broadly.]
                        That looks great!
            [For a split second, PETER’s face lightens then it goes back to his serious expression.]
                        I’m still amazed at how good a cook you are.
PETER:          It’s the secret of the great MAYA.
            [PHOENIX burst out laughing and PETER’s mood seems to lift.]
PHOENIX:    Oh, come on! Isn’t it time you tell me who’s this great Maya and what’s her secret? You’ve been repeating this silly phrase for more than a month now!
            [PETER shakes his head, grinning like a kid.]
PETER: [with a low arcane voice:]
                        No, a secret is meant to be kept.
            [PHOENIX gives off a disappointed sigh and puts on a pout. PETER serves her some mashed potatoes and stew, ignoring her puppy eyes.]
                        You’ve got to eat everything!
PHOENIX: [brightly]
                        If I do, will you tell me?
PETER: No. It is a Se-cret… I’m not telling.
            [A bright laugh escapes her which makes PETER’s eyes widen a little.]
PHOENIX:    What about a deal? If you tell me, you can ask me about something se-cret too!
            [PETER considers the deal for a few seconds, twisting his head a little.]
                        Come on! After all these years, there must be something you want to ask!
PETER: [thoughtful]
                        Yes, there is.
            [He holds out his hand.]
                        Deal!
            [She takes his hand with a victorious laugh.]
                        You still have to finish your plate.
PHOENIX:    Yes sir!
            [She mimics a military salute.]
                        So who’s Maya and what’s her great secret?
PETER:          You’re gonna be disappointed, but… there’s no coming back on your word?
            [She lifts her right hand dutifully.]
PHOENIX:    Promise!
PETER:          Right. Maya’s the name of my mum.
            [Her eyes twinkle and her smile broadens as he glances at her, embarrassed.]
                        My father was the one doing the cooking. She’s always hated doing it. When Dad died, she forced me to learn how to cook with her and I ended up almost always being the one making meals… That’s how I became quite skilled.
            [She laughs softly, watching him fidget.]
PHOENIX:    Don’t make that face, it’s a sweet story. It’s less embarrassing than an ex-girlfriend making you her cooking slave.
            [She grins at him. Though he keeps a tight mouth, his eyes twinkle. PHOENIX swallows a few mouthfuls.]
            So what do you want to know?
            [He shrugs and she opens wide eyes.]
PETER:          Finish your food. I don’t know yet what I’d rather ask you.
            [PHOENIX nods, with a curious glance at him.]
                        Did you write well this morning?
PHOENIX:    Yes, I came up with a short story I find promising…
            [She engulfs another few mouthfuls.]
                        It’s not finished though.
PETER:          Can I read some of the text you’ve written so far?
PHOENIX: [surprised]
                        Yes, sure! I’ll be glad if you read the ones I already reviewed. I mean if you want…
            [She pauses.]
                        I didn’t offer to let you read them, since I thought you weren’t interested…
PETER:          Why would you think that?
            [PHOENIX finishes her plate.]
PHOENIX:    Since we came here, you haven’t asked anything about my writing.
            [He frowns. She shows him her plate.]
                        I finished everything. Happy?
            [He nods.]
PETER:          I thought your texts might be very personal…
PHOENIX:    [with a forced laugh:]
                        I’m not writing my will.
            [PETER’s face falls in shock and her smile turns into a grimace of uneasiness. PETER stands up and clears the table in a tense silence. When he’s done, he walks to the sofa and lies down with a sigh, bringing his hands over his closed eyes.]
PETER:          Don’t laugh like that Phoenix. I can’t take it…
PHOENIX: [her eyes out of focus:]
                        I’m sorry, Peter.
            [She stands up and walks to the door leading to the room.]
PETER:          Wait, don’t go!
            [He pauses.]
                        Why won’t you at least try a treatment?
PHOENIX:   I already told you everything. They explained that even with a treatment, I had max three months left, so I don’t see the point. I couldn’t be here, I’d be sick from the treatment. But, look at me now, I’m not ill, I only have these headaches from time to time and even that, I’ve grown used to it. It’s not even getting worse…
            [Peter sits himself on the couch but lowers his head to avoid her eyes.]
PETER:          [very low, almost for himself:]
                        Still…
PHOENIX:    I’m really sorry, Peter.
            [She goes sit next to him but is cautious not to touch him. When she talks again, she speaks softly, her voice shaking.]
                        I didn’t think it would be this upsetting… Maybe if you’re… uneasy with the situation, you should… hmm… leave this place.
            [She pauses, pensive and out of focus.]
                        You can have my flat keys…
            [PETER lifts his head to flash her a dirty glare. Her eyes shine. She lowers her head. PETER stands up and wanders in the room.]
PETER:          The company director called me yesterday. I’ll play Byron in his next production. Something like the poet’s life…
PHOENIX: [beaming]
                        That’s great! I hope I can see…
            [Her voice breaks as she encounters his angry gaze.]
                        I mean, that’s brilliant you got your first major role. After all this time…
PETER:          Yes.
            [There’s a long pause during which they both look disorientated. Finally she installs her computer on the table again and starts typing again. PETER after strolling through the room like a caged animal comes stand behind her. She keeps writing. He places his hands on her shoulder, and talks low.]
                        Why this? Why writing? Was that really that important?
PHOENIX: [her gaze fixed on her computer]
                        It is. Maybe that way I’ll feel that I’ve done one thing I really wanted.
PETER:          What about your family? What about your friends?
            [She shrugs.]
PHOENIX:    When I feel things going bad, I’ll go see my family… I don’t think I’ve any friends left…
            [She pauses for a few minutes, lost in her recollection.]
                        I was unsatisfied…I overworked… I just drifted away. At least when I am writing I feel whole for a short moment. That’s what I want if I can choose…
            [PETER looks stunned. He walks to the sofa and sits down, weary. He laughs ruefully.]
PETER:          You’re pretty cold-hearted, dammit!
            [She turns toward him, astonished. But her surprise changes into annoyance when she meets his reproaching gaze.]
PHOENIX:    I thought you’d understand, if anyone could.
PETER:          Understand what? That there is no place for love in your life?
            [She glares at him fiercely but keeps her mouth shut tight.]
                        You’re a strange woman.
            [He lies back on the couch. She goes back to her writing, biting her lips. After her few minutes, she brushes the back of her hand on her cheeks and coughs a little.]
                        I never really could understand you.
            [She coughs again. He goes on with a smile in his voice:]
                        Yet we had a good time in high school.
            [He pauses, recollecting his memories.]
                        I never got bored with you around… College was pretty lonely afterwards.
            [She stops typing and puts her head in her hands, coughing again.]
                        Oh, here’s my question! You gotta answer it sincerely.
            [He clears his throat.]
                        Why did you break up with that guy?
            [She sighs heavily.]
PHOENIX: [low]
                        You had to ask now…
            [louder:]
                        He asked me to marry him…
            [She pauses and gets lost in her recollection.]
PETER:          And? You got cold-feet?
PHOENIX:    No. The moment he asked me, I realized I didn’t love him enough.
            [She smiles sadly.]
PETER: [abruptly]
                        Why?
PHOENIX: [amused]
                        I don’t know.
PETER:          I can see when you lie. Your eyes flint.
            [She shrugs.]
                        Come on, you said you’d tell me!
            [She thumps her fist on the table and stands up.]
PHOENIX:    I don’t know what you want Peter, but I’m tired.
            [She walks to the door, but he gets up and catches her hand.]
PETER:          Wait, please. I’m sorry.
            [He passes a hand through his hair, embarrassed.]
                        You’re the only one who has ever been able to deal with my bad manners…
            [She shakes her head, dubious.]
                        I don’t want you to go.
            [He stares longingly into her eyes.]
                        I never know how to deal with you, but dealing without you is much worse…
            [He grabs her hand tightly, and she freezes stunned. Her eyes fill up with tears, but she looks strangely peaceful.]
PHOENIX:    I’m sorry, Peter. I never meant to do this to you…
            [She tries to dry her tears with the back of her hand but they’re overflowing.]
                        I’ve never been able to love anyone like I love you. But I accepted it a long time ago. There can be only you. I won’t feel whole otherwise… But as long as I can forget… It is okay…
            [She wants to wipe her face with her free hand, but he grabs it. He pulls her to him and kisses both her cheeks very gently, then her mouth harsher. She puts her arms around him, while he keeps kissing her and embracing her tightly. He then lifts her swiftly from her feet and they disappear through the door. The light goes off and everything remains silent for a moment. Then steps can be heard and the light comes back as PHOENIX walks into the main room again.]
PHOENIX:    Peter?
            [She strides to the table frowning, and grabs a sheet of paper. As she reads it, she starts to chuckle nervously. The chuckle turns briskly into sobs shaking her whole body and she hardly manages to lie on the couch. The light slowly fades.]

     Act 3 – In a dark place
                  PHOENIX: 18 year-old.
                   PETER: 18 year-old.

            [The lights are off. Only a spot follows the two characters. Around them everything remains dark. PHOENIX is sitting at a desk reading a thick book, pressing her closed fist against her mouth. PETER strides in and puts a hand on her table.]

PETER: Hi there!
            [She lifts her head to meet his look.]
PHOENIX:    Hi…uh…
PETER: [holding out his hand:]
                        Peter. You’re Phoenix, right?
PHOENIX: [smiling though a bit surprised:]
                        Yes. Nice to meet you, Peter.
            [She takes his hand and shakes it. He detains her.]
PETER:          I like the questions you ask in literature.
            [He stares deep into her eyes.]
                        You got pretty eyes.
            [She blushes a little and he smirks, satisfied. He lets go of her hand.]
                        See you in literature!
            [He turns back and walks to the door.]
PHOENIX:    Peter!
            [He stops and smiles at her.]
                        You got a nice butt.
            [She grins at his stunned look and winks.]
                        See you in literature!
            [The light goes off then on again. They’re standing next to each other and they perform the beginning of the song Turn On Your Love Light from the Blue Brothers 2000 wearing black suits and sun glasses. Then as the music goes on they perform the jive. The music fades and the light goes off then on again. PETER is sitting at a desk, absent-minded. PHOENIX walks in.]
PHOENIX:    Hi, Peter!
PETER: [absently:]
                        Hi.
PHOENIX:    Your mother called yesterday to invite me to dinner, today. Is that ok if I come?
            [PETER still gazes blankly in front of him. PHOENIX waves a hand in front of him and as he doesn’t answer, she puts her forehead on his.]
                        Good god! So it’s really empty behind these pretty eyes.
            [She giggles as he pushes her away, embarrassed, then goes on, whispering.]
                        Happily, they’re dark enough, no one will notice.
PETER: [tense:]
                        Come on, drop the childish act.
PHOENIX: [cold:]
                        Ok… Sorry, I didn’t know you had your periods.
            [She turns back to leave but he catches her hand.]
PETER:          No, sorry Phoenix. I’m out of it today. Please come tonight…
            [She watches him softly.]
PHOENIX:    Are you ok?
            [She brushes the back of her hand on his cheek and he blushed vividly. He stands up.]
PETER:          Yes, I’m ok. See you later.
            [He walks out. The light goes off and on again. PHOENIX is sitting at a desk writing, deep in her thoughts. PETER comes in and wraps his arms around her shoulders. She jumps in surprise.]
PETER:          Guess what!
            [PHOENIX turns her head toward him and he’s forced to let go. She stares eagerly at him.]
PHOENIX:    What? Is it what I think?
PETER:          Yes! Your text and my skill got me to the final! I have to replay it next Saturday. The audience will be larger.
            [She jumps from her chair and throws herself at his neck.]
PHOENIX:    Pete, you’re great! I knew you’d do it.
            [She distances herself a little and high-fives him. They stared at each other delighted. After a short moment, he chuckles and wraps his arms around her to kiss her cheek.]
PETER:          It’s thanks to you and your directing skills.
            [The light goes off and on again. They’re facing each other. PETER’s sitting on the desk. PHOENIX is fidgeting. After a few minutes of avoiding his curious look, she whispers.]
PHOENIX:    I’m not taking literature. I’ve decided to major in economics.
            [PETER stands up, frowning in shock.]
PETER:          You’re kidding? I thought you…
            [He pauses annoyed.]
                        You never intended to study literature.
            [PHOENIX shrugs.]
                        Well, you never said so. I’m so dumb. I just thought…
            [He pauses, with a smirk.]
                        You’re not attending the local College...
            [PHOENIX shakes her head.]
PHOENIX:    I’m going to study in London.
            [PETER glares at her, and she fidgets.]
                        Peter…
            [She’s begging:]
                        We’ll stay the same.
PETER:          No, we won’t.
            [He pauses.]
                        What about your writing?
PHOENIX:    I’m not like you. I need something steadier.
PETER:          See! I already don’t know you anymore.
            [He turns back and waves his hand.]
                        Thanks for letting me know. Send me a postcard fromLondon once in a while if you get the time.
            [He walks out. In a daze, she puts both hands on her cheeks. The lights go off and on again after a few minutes. They’re facing each other, wearing casual clothes.]
PHOENIX:    I’m in love with you, Peter.
PETER:          I’m sorry. There’s no point in telling me this.
   [The lights go off.]

Act 4 – In M. WATERMOOR’s dining room.

PHOENIX: wearing a skirt and blouse.

PETER: in jeans and T-shirt.

M.WATERMOOR: wearing a black suit.

HIS WIFE MAYA

[The table has been laid for four. PETER is sitting casually on a chair, reading a script. M. WATERMOOR comes in and takes off his tie.]

M.WATERMOOR: Hi Peter! How was today?

PETER: [looking up from his book]

Good. I found a new place, and I just received the script.

[He waves the sheets in his hands.]

M.WATERMOOR: That’s great! When are you starting the rehearsal?

PETER: In two weeks, if everything goes smoothly. Everyone just came back from New York, so they need a little rest…

[He pauses and glances at the table.]

Is there someone dining with us tonight?

M.WATERMOOR: [nodding:]

Yes, a young co-worker that’s just gone through a few hardships. She must be around your age.

[PETER’s gaze becomes distant, uninterested.]

She’s very lively, you’ll see.

[PETER bites his lips, but forces himself to laugh nonchalantly.]

PETER: I hope she’s pretty then.

M.WATERMOOR: [twisting his head a little:]

I think she’s the kind you like. She’s got sparkling eyes.

PETER: [coolly]

Where is she by the way?

M.WATERMOOR: Parking her car…

[There’s a knock on the door.]

Right…

[MAYA comes in running through the room.]

MAYA: I’ll get the door!

[M.WATERMOOR and PETER look at each other chuckling a little. MAYA opens the door and PHOENIX comes in.]

Good god! What a surprise! Phoenix my dear, it’s been a long time!

[MAYA embraces PHOENIX like a long lost child, PETER looks at PHOENIX in utter shock, PHOENIX’s smile freezes a little and M.WATERMOOR seems confused.]

Did you come to see Peter?

M.WATERMOOR: You know each other?

MAYA: She was Pete’s friend all through high school!

[She pauses to think.]

You mean she’s your co-worker? What a coincidence! Peter, what’s up with you? Don’t you recognize Phoenix?

[PETER comes out of his daze and smiles sickly at PHOENIX, his eyes searching her face with anguish. He walks very slowly to her and shakes her hand mechanically.]

PETER: How do you do, Phoenix? It’s been a long time…

[PHOENIX’s shocked expression turns cold, but PETER’s eyes keep searching her face.]

PHOENIX: I’m doing strangely well…

M.WATERMOOR: Oh Good God yes! That’s the most awkward story I’ve ever heard! But come in, Dear, let’s sit!

MAYA: Yes, let’s sit down! You look a little pale, you must be tired! It’s already quite late.

M.WATERMOOR: Yes, it’s my fault Maya.

[He kisses her wife apologetically on the cheek. All through this exchange, PETER’s eyes rest on PHOENIX’s face, as if he’s not too sure that he’s really awake. They all sit down but MAYA who leaves the room. M.WATERMOOR pours everyone some red wine.]

PETER: Maybe she’d prefer coke.

[M.WATERMOOR looks up confused. PHOENIX shakes her head smiling sweetly at M.WATERMOOR but staring coolly at PETER.]

PHOENIX: I’m fine with wine.

[MAYA comes in with a big dish of stew.]

MAYA: You must be starving!

[MAYA goes out again to come back in with another huge dish containing mashed potatoes. PHOENIX can’t help a smile. PETER is still in a daze and M.WATERMOOR flashes him curious glances from time to time.]

PHOENIX: It looks delicious!

MAYA: Thanks dear, I hope you’ll like it.

[MAYA starts serving the food and they all start eating.]

M.WATERMOOR: So I was telling you how poor Phoenix went through a three-month nightmare!

[PETER gets back into focus.]

But Phoenix you should be the one telling this story!

[PHOENIX coughs a little to clear her throat and glances at PETER with a tiny smirk.]

PHOENIX: I tend to have very strong headaches but a few months ago it started getting worse so I went to get an MRI.

MAYA: Dear, that’s definitely from working too much if you’re still the same as in high school…

[PHOENIX nods with a smile.]

PHOENIX: But they diagnosed a terminal brain cancer. Inoperable. They told me even with chemo, I’d live no longer than three months.

MAYA: Good God! Are you…

PHOENIX: Happily it was all a mistake!

[PHOENIX glances at PETER whose face has become livid.]

As crazy as it seems, they had messed up my file with another P. Summer.

[After some thinking:]

I think her first name was Penelope…

[PETER chokes a little.]

MAYA: Good gracious! That’s criminal! What if you’d just killed yourself out of despair?

PHOENIX: Well, I didn’t. But I ran off, not getting a second diagnosis, I just took a three-month holiday and went to the mountain to write a few stories I’d wanted to write for a long time.

[MAYA’s eyes go round while M.WATERMOOR nods in an enthusiastic way.]

M.WATERMOOR: And now they’re getting published!

MAYA and PETER [together:]

Really?

PHOENIX: Some of them are.

[PHOENIX sips some wine and meets PETER’s gaze challengingly. He looks down and gobbles a few mouthfuls.]

MAYA: That’s great, Phoenix! And here Peter’s getting his first great role…

PHOENIX: [taunting:]

Are you Peter?

PETER: Hmm

MAYA: He’s playing Byron.

PHOENIX: [treacherously smooth:]

That’s great. I’ll come see you then. Now I feel like I have so much time to enjoy life…

[PETER chokes and has to excuse himself for a few minutes. He walks out.]

MAYA: [thoughtful:]

Yes, it must change one’s way of seeing life…

PHOENIX: It does. When I thought I had time, it seems there was nothing I really wanted to do. But then when I thought I was going to die, I started moving and changing things. I know it’s quite banal what I’m saying but feeling it and saying it are two different things, I guess…

[She smiles very sweetly at MAYA who’s looking at her softly.]

MAYA: I’m happy you’re well.

M.WATERMOOR: Yes, that’s such a story! Happily you didn’t do anything rash!

[PETER comes in. Some of his color is back.]

PETER: When did you learn you weren’t gonna die, Phoenix?

PHOENIX: When I came home, last week. I had a letter from the hospital.

M.WATERMOOR: It’s a good thing you didn’t tell anyone about it. What a mess it would have been!

[PETER’s eyes throw daggers and PHOENIX smirks a little.]

PHOENIX: I did tell one person.

M.WATERMOOR: Really? What happened then?

PHOENIX: They ran off, never to be seen again…

MAYA: [shakes her head in disgust]

Must have been your boyfriend I guess. Men can be so disappointing sometimes. But you’re better off without that jerk!

[PHOENIX shrugs and giggles. PETER stands up brusquely.]

PETER: I’ll bring the dessert.

MAYA: Thanks, Pete. Can you take off the plates, please?

[PETER obeys in silence and strides out.]

M.WATERMOOR: He’s in a weird mood tonight, isn’t he?

MAYA: He’s been depressed since he came back from France.

M.WATERMOOR: He must have been dumped by a woman.

MAYA: [twisting her head:]

It doesn’t sound like him. Only during high school would he get that worked up. You remember, Phoenix?

[PHOENIX chokes a little on her wine. PETER comes back in and meets PHOENIX curious look. Unsettled, he avoids her eyes. He serves the chocolate cake.]

M.WATERMOOR: Wait, I have champagne! It’s an occasion we have to celebrate. To your life and this fortunate reunion!

[He hurries out.]

MAYA: Wait!

[She looks at PHOENIX.]

I gotta go help him. I’ve put the bottles away, he won’t find them.

[She follows M.WATERMOOR out. PETER and PHOENIX are left on their own. A tense silence arises.]

PETER: [hesitant:]

I’m glad you’re doing fine.

[PHOENIX bites her lips, and brushes the back of her hand on her cheek. She avoids meeting his look. PETER keeps devouring her face with his eyes. She fidgets in her chair.]

I love you, Phoenix.

[PHOENIX chokes and coughs. She stands up abruptly, imitated by PETER, who reaches for her hand. Her eyes sparkle dangerously.]

I love you.

PHOENIX: [Her voice is trembling.]

I gotta go.

[He doesn’t let go of her hand. She doesn’t move.]

PETER: You still love me. You always will.

[She slaps him hard, her eyes murderous. He tightens his grip over her hand.]

PHOENIX: It’s easy for you, isn’t it?

[She bites her lips and tears run down her cheeks. He holds onto her hand and they stare at each other unable to say anything. The light fades on them.]

CURTAIN

Me, myself and Mike [(25) and (26)]

2010-02-09T20:58:00.001+01:00

(25)

I’ve been longing for companionship

Someone who would understand

Without judging

Who wouldn’t try

To steal me away

You

Would walk the path

In the same direction

No question

No wondering when that will end

Though it will end

We’d both know

Nowhere

Just down the river if we will

Down that alley road

There would be laughs

But cries also

Yet together

And then loneliness again

When we’d realized that’s all we are

That we can’t stand

You

The path will sever

And I will cry along

Longing for companionship

But there is no company down this life

It is where Mike calls me.

(26)

The snow flakes kissed my lids and I saw something new

Did you?

Some lit-up windows looking down on me

I gaze up

Searching for someone

The cold is so pretty within oneself

Delicate

Snow buries your charges

In a soft fur you’ll love for long

Winter and Spring again

No wonder we all want it

The velvet silence

Of one’s skin getting bitten

By loneliness

Me, myself and Mike (24)

2010-02-09T00:42:00.001+01:00

(24)

Did you feel empty

When you realized it?

Empty

When you saw

They don’t need you anymore?

Did you?

Lonely, pained or ugly?

Did it hurt or did it make you laugh

To see everything you did so far

Came exactly to what you wanted?

You wanted

Void?

What it is it exactly

You wanted?

Did you want to feel empty?

Did you hope emptiness would fade away

If they wanted

You?

No, did emptiness fill you?

Fulfill you?

Did you feel empty when their backs smiled in the distance?

Did you feel empty?

No,

I felt Mike.

Me, myself and Mike [(21) ,(22) and (23)]

2010-02-05T21:27:00.002+01:00

(21)

I'm the worst

I can never throw away

What belongs to me

Belongs to me

Even broken

I'll keep it

Maybe I'll be able to use it again

One day

What belongs to me will always belong to me

Broken, unshaped, ugly or cold

I won't let go

Even if you try to snatch it away from me

I won't get rid of it

So don't try

To deny

(22)

Someone is feeding on my mind, slowly taking upon me,

Control, no control's left to me,

Someone is disregarding my mind,

Drinking away my soul and flesh

While laughing my troubles away.

Someone is disrupting my well grown membrane,

The shell in which I hide

To discourage you,

Yet the shell in which I hope

They'll take notice

I'm hiding so that people will see

Someone is knocking on my door,

Asking to come in

Yet I can't open if I don't know who it is.

What if they mean harm,

What if they don't mean harm?

I don't want to know about my enemy,

I don't want to know about my murderer.

I want to choose

That's different. I'd break the glass, and accept it,

if you'd only let me choose the face I'd stare into

While I breathe out for the last time.

Knock, knock, knock.

Is that you Mike?

( 23)

There's something about being dead,

That no one knows better than me.

Will you tell me? You ask,

But what if that kills you, right?

But again you ask

What is it that makes you laugh?

All together the same,

Smile, dance or cry,

Deny, hate or whistle

There's no feeling in fulfilling my duty

The great numbers make things easy

Counting, counting and re-counting

No breathing in, no breathing out

The soul of computing the data

It's like watching your house get burned down

It's out, material, and nonsensical

It's not serious

It counts again,

The number of steps through the street,

The number of tubes in the lab,

The number of slices of bread left,

It counts counterclockwise

And again clockwise

Wisdom of numbers

Neither me nor Mike.

You, only you.

2010-02-03T21:25:00.005+01:00

CHARACTERS:
WILL: A thirty-ish man, unshaved, wearing baggy dancing clothes.

SOPHIA: A young woman, very pretty.

DANCERS

[The curtain opens on a group performing hip-hop dancing on a whole song. WILL and SOPHIA dance in the centre.]

WILL: Right guys! That was awesome… We’re almost there.

[He gets a towel from a chair on the side and wipes the sweat off his face. As he does so, the dancers gather their stuff.]

See you on Tuesday. Do some stretching sometime!

[The dancers leave. SOPHIA sits herself on the floor and stretches herself. WILL joins her. They keep stretching for a few minutes in silence. SOPHIA glances at WILL from time to time. ]

SOPHIA: You’ve lost some weight recently.

[WILL levels his gaze on the woman and shrugs.]

WILL: Not really.

[He goes back to his stretching. She stares at him, in silence.]

SOPHIA: You’re not eating properly, are you?

[He looks up and laughs at her reproving glare.]

WILL: Come on, little Sophia, I’m all right. Don’t glare at me like that! I needed to get in shape a bit, so I stopped soda and chips.

[SOPHIA looks surprised, and frowns. She stands up to stretch more but keeps her eyes on WILL, though her expression grows sweeter.]

SOPHIA: You want to have… [She bends to touch her feet with her fingers.] …dinner… [She breathes out.]… with me sometime?

[He rolls on his back and lies staring at the ceiling.]

WILL: Will I be the one to cook?

[SOPHIA stops her stretching, walks toward him, puts her feet on his chest and glares down at him.]

SOPHIA: As if! Why do you always have to ridicule me when I’m serious?

[She wants to turn back but he grabs her ankle.]

WILL: You’re angry, little Sophia.

[He smiles innocently.]

Don’t be, you’ll get wrinkles on your lovely face.

[For a split second, she looks unsettled, then lets herself fall backwards landing on her hands, and does a backbend followed by a backward roll. She ends up lying on her belly, and puts her head in her hands to stare at WILL.]

SOPHIA: I’m not angry.

[WILL laughs and gets up.]

WILL: If you don’t want me to anger you, don’t ask the same question every time.

[She frowns.]

SOPHIA: I am not angry.

[WILL wipes his face in the towel.]

How’s work doing?

[He grunts and shrugs.]

What’s that supposed to mean?

WILL: Whatever.

[She stares at him, unblinking.]

The same as ever. I’m not good enough to get any interesting job, yet I’m not bad enough to just drop out. I’m a mess.

[SOPHIA stands up slowly, with cat-like moves.]

SOPHIA: I like your dancing.

[He smiles, an amused look on his face.]

WILL: Thank you, little Sophia.

[She frowns at him.]

SOPHIA: You don’t mean it. You’re making fun of me again.

[She slides to the floor to do the splits.]

WILL: I’m not, I swear. I’m grateful you like my dancing though you’re a thousand times more talented than I am…

[She looks up.]

SOPHIA: I’m not. Dance is just a hobby to me. I’m never serious.

[She breathes slowly out.]

I’ve never been.

[He stares at her for a few minutes, as she stretches. After a rather long pause, she lifts her head and their eyes meet. They keep looking at each other for another few minutes.]

Go out with me.

[He turns back and puts the music on again. He starts practicing moves, doing every one of them at least three times before starting on another one. SOPHIA stands up and starts dancing freely on the music, absent-minded. When she suddenly faces him, she stops abruptly.]

Go out with me.

[He ignores her. She stamps her feet and yells:]

Go out with me!

[For a short moment, he seems annoyed, stops his practice and turns off the music, but then his mouth splits in a laughing smile.]

WILL: I already told you, you’re too young for me. Dating younger women is too tiresome.

[He laughs good-naturedly and pinches her cheek. She looks disgusted and clenches her fists.]

SOPHIA: You’re a lazy bum, Will. I can’t understand how you’re able to go on like that. One day you’ll have to commit yourself.

[She steps away from him, and do a saut de chat and a pirouette to turn her back to him. He looks hurt.]

It makes me sick to see you so passive. You’ve got the chance to make it. Dance is your life, and yet you’re always hesitating. If I had the chance to only dance…

WILL: [harsh:]

Then what would you do?

[She shrugs yet looks hurt. He ignores her. She pouts a little like a child but he stays silent. She does a few classic dance steps without music, then starts turning wildly on herself till she’s too dizzy to go on. She falls on the floor, her eyes out of focus. ]

SOPHIA: I’d laugh every day. I would enjoy how things would dance around me in circles like now.

WILL: See, you’re just a child.

[He lies next to her, watching the ceiling. There’s a long pause during which only their breaths are heard.]

Why don’t you try getting serious?

SOPHIA: Why don’t you try getting serious?

WILL: I am serious with my dancing. I’m just not that good… But you…

[He pauses.]

It hurts to see you waste yourself…

[She sighs and puts one hand on her eyes and the other on his mouth.]

SOPHIA: I’ve got no time… I’ve got my job… It’s too late for me. If I wanted to be a pro, I should have started as a kid.

[He laughs and stands up. He pauses, glancing at her unmoving body.]

WILL: A kid…

[After a short pause:]

Want to have dinner with me?

[She rolls on her belly and jumps up on her feet.]

SOPHIA: Yes, I want to have you for dinner.

[He laughs but she strides toward him and stamps a fist on his chest.]

Don’t laugh.

[He laughs again.]

WILL: Poor little Sophia. I’m not gonna date you, so just drop the idea.

[She shrugs but has tears in her eyes.]

Don’t cry, you know we’re not suited. I’m too old and lazy for little you.

SOPHIA: I should be the one to judge.

[She crosses her arms and stays silent for a few minutes.]

Dance with me.

[WILL blinks, surprised.]

WILL: What? Again?

SOPHIA: No, not that kind of dance. I said “dance with me”, not next to me.

[Perplexed, WILL smiles absent-mindedly.]

WILL: As you like, Princess Sophie.

[He takes her hand and puts his arms behind her back. They start waltzing very slowly, then gradually faster and faster till she lets go of his hand and does a classic step on her own, before stopping, out of breath.]

See you’re already out of breath.

SOPHIA: Go out with me.

WILL: Drop your job, start a career in dance. That’s where you should be.

SOPHIA: Stop that.

WILL: [teasing her:]

Dance. Only dance.

SOPHIA: [yelling while he goes on chanting maliciously:]

Stop!

[She squats down and puts her hands on her ears.]

Stop it now! I hate you, Will!

[She starts to weep in silence, and Will seems suddenly guilt-stricken. He shuts up and approaches her cautiously.]

Leave me! You’re the worst!

[He sits next to her and lets his head rest on her arm.]

WILL: I’m sorry.

[She shakes her head.]

SOPHIA: It’s ok, it’s my fault anyway. I’m too stubborn.

[Her hands remain on her face and WILL hesitates to put his arm around her shoulders. She lifts her head before he’s reached a decision.]

I should go now, it’s late already. I got a lot of work to do tomorrow.

WILL: Accounting is harsh. Won’t you have dinner with me in the end?

[She flashes a deathly glare at him, and a rueful smile brushes his lips.]

Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you that much.

[She shrugs.]

Whatever…

[He stares at her as she collects her belongings.]

Sophia…

[She turns around to face him.]

Dance with me.

SOPHIA: Why should I?

WILL: Because you want to?

SOPHIA: No.

WILL: I’ll kiss you if you do.

[Her eyes grow narrow.]

SOPHIA: Right. What do you want to dance?

[WILL shrugs. She glides toward him but waits for him to put his arms around her. As soon as he’s done, she pushes him into dancing and they dance wildly for a few minutes. Then SOPHIA grows flustered. She suddenly lets go of his hands and does a few jumps followed by a flip under his strangely sad gaze. When she lands on her feet out of breath and disorientated, her gaze is out of focus. She breathes heavily. He walks very slowly toward her, and kisses her on the cheek, with a pained expression.]

WILL: Good night, little Sophia. I’ll see you tomorrow.

[WILL walks out of the stage. SOPHIA stays, still out of focus. A tear runs down her cheek.]

THE CURTAIN FALLS

Me, myself and Mike (20)

2010-01-30T13:13:00.000+01:00

(20)

What if things had been different? I always wonder. What if

I had been someone different

Smaller, different from my outside self

Bluer, religious, outsider, foreign

What if we had talked about what we didn't have in common,

Instead of what made me think we were alike?

What if my mind instead of going blank had turned purple? Would you have stayed inside?

I could have been Mike? Could I?

I look at photographs

Not old ones, no, the one you won't show me, and think, what's life now?

Is it what I do and what you do?

Is it what Mike makes me do? Is it what you made me do that made Mike? Is it what Mike does to me that makes me go back to you? Is it only me?

Me among all of you that still can't understand? When do you start to love? When do you start to hate? When do you stop ever feeling?

What if I was someone else? Another woman, a man that'd stay without questions,

That could move freely around? I don't know.

Maybe that's why Mike gets to me. It gets to me to know I'm weak to this. To know there's no control. To see all of you walking away with a short smile. I'm stuck here, looking at your backs, and

Mike won't come.