En attendant Mûrier

Serge: Will he come today?
Hippolyte: Mûrier?
Serge: Yes, Mûrier. Will he come? Do you think he will come?
Hippolyte: Yes, he’ll come. I have faith that he will come. He told us to wait here for him. Here. By the tree.
Serge: What tree?
Hippolyte: That tree. The one behind us.
Serge: That one? It looks like a bush to me.
Hippolyte: A tree.
Serge: A bush.
Hippolyte: A shrub.
Serge: A bush.
Hippolyte: A tree.
Serge: Is it his? Is it his bush?
Hippolyte: Tree. He owns all the land around here, so yes, it is his.
Serge: I’m cold. Give me your coat.
Hippolyte: If I give you my coat, then I’ll freeze.
Serge: But at least one of us will be warm.
Hippolyte: And one of us will freeze to death. I hate you.
Serge: I hate you.
Hippolyte: Let’s forgive each other.
Serge: Yes, let’s.
Hippolyte: Let’s embrace.
Serge: My dear!
Hippolyte: My dear!
Serge: How time passes when one is having fun. Will he come?
Hippolyte: Mûrier?
Serge: Yes. Soon.
Hippolyte: If you’re cold, we could walk round the tree.
Serge: The bush? Yes we could. But if he came and we weren’t here…
Hippolyte: We would be here.
Serge: He told us to wait here. By the bush.
Hippolyte: The tree. But look here, if we take our current distance from it as being the radius of a circle, then if we proceed round it we are – ipso facto – always by it.
Serge: True.
Hippolyte: Besides, we walked round it yesterday.
Serge: Did we? I don’t recognize it. Was it really yesterday?
Hippolyte: Yes, I am sure. And the day before.
Serge: It had leaves on it then.
Hippolyte: It must be autumn now.
Serge: I’m cold.
Hippolyte: Look at the state of you. What if he comes? What if Mûrier comes? You should comb your hair.
Serge: I haven’t a comb.
Hippolyte: Use your fingers, then.
Serge: Like this?
Hippolyte: Yes.
Serge: You should shine your boots.
Hippolyte: I haven’t a brush.
Serge: Use your sleeve.
Hippolyte: Like this?
Serge: Yes. And we should brush our teeth too.
Hippolyte: And then we could walk round the tree.
Serge: The bush, Hippi, the bush.
Hippolyte. The tree, Gégé.
Serge: I’m cold. Will he come soon?
Hippolyte: Yes, he will come. I hope he will come. Today. Or tomorrow.
Serge: Meanwhile…
Hippolyte: … we could walk around the bush…
Serge: … again.
Hippolyte: I am cold.
Serge: Will he come? Will Mûrier come?
Hippolyte: Yes. Soon.


I don't lie well enough, Simon. I would love to say - No, I don't give up that easily; No, I am not upset; No, I still believe, no I still have hope -

Children are the most honest people simply because they're so young. They will sleep on the front rows, tired of the make believe and pretence, while old men applaud graciously the undying heroes, and congregate in intellectual conversation. One day, these children will grow to be one of them. A face amongst the audience, watching with tired eyes and hands clapping enthusiastically. They will have forgotten how they had once slept - no, they are far too embarrassed to admit that -

One of these days, I will realise I had not seen a single star in ages, I have not seen people, or cars, I have not seen a smile, or a colour, nor a hint of nature, or glass or brick, there will be no day, only night - and the only thing I shall see shall be the black, or even dirt in my eye -

Or perhaps I shall not speak, and my throat shall be parched. I will have forgotten the languages, the power of speech, the allure of voices. I will have forgotten to listen, to pay attention - caught in the conundrum of my routine, that is, silent -


Thespian

In life and laughter,
Both in and out of school,
I have seldom played the wise man,
But I’ve often played the fool.

The heart may have its reasons,
The mind can never know-
But only sorrow follows
Where the heart will go.

No matter where the boards you find,
Or how you play the part-
Always, the mind betrays the heart,
And the heart betrays the mind.