By Denise Stoklos

Translated by Denise Stoklos and Diana Taylor

characters

INHABITANT and STAGEMANAGER

or

ONE and ANOTHER

or

SUBJECT and PREDICATE

or

PERSONAL and SOCIAL

or

FÍSICA e JURÍDICA

or

FIRST and SECOND

or

AGENT and WITNESS

or

OPEN and CLOSED

or

TIED and UNTIED

or

LOCK and KEY

SET

HOUSE or CAVE or TEPEE or IGLOO or CABIN or PALACE or ANIMA

or

COUNTRY or MIND or IDEOLOGY or REPERTOIRE OF EMOTIONS or HABITS or MEMORIES, etc

SOFT MUSIC. VARIOUS ROOMS ARE SLOWLY ILLUMINATED. A SIMPLE RESIDENCE. THERE ARE NO WALLS ON STAGE, ALTHOUGH IT IS OBVIOUS FROM THE CHARACTER’S MOVEMENTS THAT THE HALLS ARE VERY NARROW. THE ROOMS ARE SUGGESTED ONLY BY SPECIFIC OBJECTS: THE BEDROOM IS ONLY A BED, THE KITCHEN A REFRIGERATOR AND STOVE. THE DINING ROOM CONSISTS OF A TABLE AND CHAIR. IN THE LIVING ROOM THERE IS A SOFA, AN IMAGINARY DOOR, AND RED FLOWERS IN A SHOULDER-HIGH, FREE STANDING VASE. THE BATHROOM IS SUGGESTED ONLY BY THE TOILET. THE CHARACTER, IN FORMAL WEAR, GRAY SUIT, RED HIGH HEELS, AND BLACK HANDBAG UNDER THE ARM. HER LONG HAIR IS SWEPT STRAIGHT-UP, FIXED ABSOLUTELY ON END AT THE TOP OF HER HEAD. (WERE A MAN TO PLAY THIS ROLE, CERTAIN ADAPTIONS WOULD BE NECESSARY REGARDING CLOTHING.) ENTERS HOUSE. FUMBLES WITH KEYS AT THE DOOR. SHE ROLLS ON THE FLOOR. SHE MOVES THROUGH THE ROOMS, LOOKING AT THE SPACES, THINKING OUT LOUD.

One and a half million years ago. Hominidae embarked on the development of language. This process was slow, as slow as mastering the use of sophisticated tools. Simple devices, made of stone, were used by Australopithecus during long periods of time, before the appearance of hammers. There is evidence of improvement in the manufacture of artifacts [PAUSE. FLIRTING WITH THE AUDIENCE.] and also evidence of cooperative hunting. This data suggests a more complex communication system, which certainly indicates the period of time in which language achieved a new importance. [SHE FUMBLES WITH HER BACK GARTER. CONTORTS AND TWISTS AROUND TRYING TO ALIGN THE SEAM IN HER STOCKING.]

The “Homo Erectus”[SHE STRAIGHTENS-UP.] was taller. His brain was bigger. [PICKS UP ORANGE JUICE CONTAINER AND AN EMPTY GLASS FROM TOP OF THE STOVE AND CARRIES THEM OVER TO THE TABLE.] His face and teeth were smaller than the Australopithecus. Some of them had bigger skulls than the average modern man. Some of them even bigger than post-modern man.

[IN EXCRUCIATINGLY SLOW MOTION, SHE STARTS POURING THE ORANGE JUICE. SHE POURS SO SLOWLY THAT HER BODY REACTS WITH IMPATIENCE—SHE TAPS THE HEELS OF HER SHOES, SHE LOOKS AROUND, FED-UP. SHE CONTINUES TO POUR THE LIQUID UNTIL IT REACHES THE VERY TOP OF THE GLASS. SHE STOPS AND SINGS AN ARIA BY MONTEVERDI FROM “RITORNO DE ULISSES IN PATRIA,” IN FREE TRANSLATION.)

Immortal I am

Within a human body

Everything. everything surprises me

A single drop tells me

That the time in which I grow old

Is the same in which I grow up

Is the same in which I grow up

[SHE TRIES TO DRINK THE JUICE BUT CANNOT FIND A WAY TO HOLD THE GLASS. FRUSTRATED, SHE FINALLY MOVES BACK A STEP AND BENDS OVER, HER HANDS BEHIND HER BACK, TO TRY TO DRINK. GIVES UP. STANDS, ARMS-CROSSED, DOING NOTHING. MOVES AROUND THE TABLE. STANDS, ARMS-CROSSED, DOING NOTHING. NOTHING CHANGES. SHE MOVES AGAIN, TRAPPED IN A CIRCULAR MOTION THAT SPEEDS UP. STOPS SUDDENLY, AND TRIES TO RECOMPOSE HERSELF BY SITTING IN THE CHAIR. AGAIN, SHE TRIES TO GET COMFORTABLE, RESTING HER HEAD ON HER ARMS, THEN HANDS, BUT FINDS NO SATISFACTORY POSITION. STILL SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING THAT GIVES MEANING TO HER MOMENT, SHE OPENS HER HANDBAG. SHE NEARLY PUTS HER HEAD INSIDE OF IT. EXTRACTS SOME PERSONAL BELONGINGS, SUCH AS DENTAL FLOSS, AND A LETTER. DROPS BOTH. SUDDENLY HER ATTENTION IS DRAWN TO THE SOFA. FINALLY FOCUSED, SHE STALKS TOWARDS THE SOFA.

Those artifacts, frequently found during the stone-age, consisted of many types of scrapers, with saw-like and indented edges. [FLICKS A SPECK OFF OF IT. WITH A NEW RESOLUTION, SHE MOVES TOWARDS THE BED.] The period of time in which those tools were made begins during the primitive Low Pleistocene and goes at least until the Riss glaciation period, at the end of the Middle Pleistocene period. The Kenyapithecus, a Ramapithecus-type fossil, is considered by many people to be a very ancient representative of the human family. [SITTING ON THE BED, SHE LOOKS AT THE AUDIENCE.] I don’t know why I expose myself so much.

(SHE TOSSES ON THE BED, FLIPPING UP INTO THE AIR, DETERMINED TO FIND A COMFORTABLE POSITION. FRUSTRATED, SHE SWITCHES ON BED-LIGHT, WHICH STARTS VIVALDI’S FOUR SEASONS: WINTER. SHE CONTINUES TO TOSS, INCREASINGLY AROUSED BY THE MUSIC, THAT MOVES TOGETHER WITH HER TOSSING AND TURNING. SWITCHES OFF BEDLIGHT. MUSIC STOPS. GOES TO THE LIVING ROOM, EXHAUSTED FROM TRYING TO REST. SHE TRIES TO TRANSFORM HER PHYSICAL AGGITATION INTO SOME SOURCE OF HARMONY, SUGGESTIVE OF A DANCE. THE DANCE IS TENSE AND TIGHT, AS IF SHE WERE MIMING A DANCE. SHE GOES TO THE SOFA, AS IF SHE WERE GOING TO FLICK A SPECK OFF OF IT. INSTEAD, SHE’S REACHING FOR A RED ACCORDIAN BEHIND THE SOFA. PLACES IT ON THE FLOOR AT THE CENTER OF THE LIVING ROOM, AND STARTS TO EXAMINE IT, AS IF SHE WERE TRYING TO DECIPHER ITS COMPLEXITIES. SHE FIGURES OUT HOW TO PUT ON THE ACCORDEON, BUT IT OVERWHELMS HER BODY, MAKING IT APPEAR VERY SMALL AND CROUCHED, WITH ONLY THE HEAD AND FEET SHOWING. SHE IS STUCK IN THE DWARFED POSITION. RESISTING THE IMAGE SHE’S PROJECTING, SHE PUSHES HERSELF UP. GENISIS OF A PERFORMER. SHE STARTS TO PLAY RANDOMLY. DISORGANIZED SOUND. SHE MOVES LEFT AND RIGHT ACROSS THE STAGE. WHEN SHE GETS NEAR THE FLOWERS, AT EYE-LEVEL, SHE STOPS, INSPIRED SUDDENLY BY THEIR COLOR, PERFUME, FORM. CARESSES THE ACCORDIAN. BACKS-UP, TO THE SOFA, WHERE SHE PROCEEDS TO EROTICALLY STROKE THE KEYS OF THE ACCORDION AND, IN EXTENSION, HER BODY—DOWNWARDS AND UPWARDS—AS IF SHE WERE PLAYING. SENSUAL PLEASURE. HER MIMING COINCIDES WITH THE SOUND OF RECORDED ORGAN MUSIC. IN ECSTASY, SHE REALIZES SHE CAN PLAY THE MUSIC. ]

[PLAYS THE ACCORDION. FAMOUS PIECE FOR BEGINNERS.] It’s not easy playing the accordion. It ‘s very heavy. I used to have a very light one. But it was stolen. Everything gets stolen, everything. Well, it is not worth playing the accordion. I’m not going to play it anymore—it doesn’t change anything. [WITH THE ACCORDION HANGING FROM HER SHOULDERS, SHE STOPS, WRIGGLING UNCOMFORTABLY. SHE PUTS DOWN THE ACCORDION, RIGHT UNDERNEATH THE FLOWERS. SHE MOVES SIDEWAYS, IN SHORT JERKY STEPS, TOWARDS THE TOILET, AS IF SHE NEEDED TO USE IT. SHE OPENS THE LID. LOOKS INTO THE BOWL, VERY UPSET. SOMETHING IS IN THERE. TORN BETWEEN DISGUST AND URGENCY, SHE HESTITATES ABOUT WHAT TO DO. FINALLY, DISGUSTED BUT DETERMINED, SHE ROLLS UP HER SLEEVES, PUTS HER HAND INSIDE THE BOWL AND PULLS OUT A CLOCK-- DRY. PLACES THE CLOCK ON THE KITCHEN TABLE. LOOKING AT THE CLOCK.] Well. It’s already been one minute and five seconds since I...Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve seconds since I...Fourteen. Sixteen. Twenty-two. Thirty... [SHE TRIES TO KEEP UP WITH THE CLOCK, BUT IT’S ALWAYS AHEAD OF HER. IN EXTREME FRUSTRATION, SHE TRIES TO CATCH UP BY PUTTING THE CLOCK ON HER HEAD. SHE SITS ON THE SOFA, PUTS THE CLOCK BESIDE HER, FACING THE AUDIENCE. ONLY OCCASIONLY DOES SHE STEAL A GLANCE AT IT AND MUMBLES THE SECONDS. SHE COVERS HER MOUTH, TRYING TO STOP HERSELF.] It’s exasperating. [OPENS HER HANDBAG. PUTS HER HEAD INSIDE. BURROWS. FINALLY SHE PULLS OUT MONEY—FIVE BUNDLES. SHE ARRANGES THE BUNDLES IN A GEOMETRIC LINE ON THE SOFA AND COUNTS THEM. NOT SATISFIED, SHE RE-ARRANGES THE BUNDLES IN A DIFFERENT GEOMETRIC LINE AND RECOUNTS. NEVER SATISFIED, SHE TAKES OFF THE RUBBER BAND AND COUNTS THE BILLS. SHE COUNTS THE MONEY AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN, FIRST WITH HER HANDS, THEN WITH HER FEET. SHE MOMENTARILY TAKES OFF HER SHOES, TO USE THEM AS WEIGHTS AS SHE ORGANIZES HER PILES. SHE PICKS THEM UP AGAIN, DISORGANIZED. THEY BECOME AN OBJECT IN HER HAND. SHE STICKS THE MONEY BACK INTO THE BAG—AND PUSHES IT DOWN WITH HER HIGH-HEELS. AFTER PACKING HER MONEY IN THE HANDBAG, SHE STANDS UP STRAIGHT, CROSSES THE STAGE] I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat, I eat… and I never put on weight. [PICKS UP THE DENTAL FLOSS. GOES TO SIT AT THE TABLE. TRIES AGAIN TO DRINK THE JUICE AND AGAIN FAILS. PICKS UP THE LETTER. LOOKING AT THE GLASS WITH REVENGE.] My God! Oh my God! My God...I am writing you these few lines… oh my God! … these “non”-thoughts which occur whenever I think about our absurdity, which flows through the sewage of this non-signalized metropolis inside our head, we, the peculiar people, the daring people, the desperate people, the deprived people, the ambitious people… my God! How many firemen falsely alarmed… my God! … how many burning hoses do we have to extinguish? The hammer in flames, the siren mute and astonished. And we have to deal with the memories of so many of those who were important in our history and now burn themselves out in a sentimental samba that spells longing and Brazilian beer that promises happiness. It’s so inglorious to lose these people, as inglorious as losing the prayer we pray to Saint Benedict help us recover our loses. And it’s useless to believe that faith moves mounta…. I am talking about these contemporary people that survive only in memory, those whom I search for among the firemen, among the fire and the emerald-green melancholy, but I search without fury. Let’s recognize what is in the ruins—that which is fleeting, that which is foundation, that which hovers, like radar, over the screen, and that which is Kryptonite. Oh my God!!! ...It is necessary to recognize the Music, the non-numeric scale of our pentagram, the center of the yolk or the myth, what is in the Past, the Known, the Structured, the Ancient, the Old, that which vibrates within the mantle of the orgasm, that which sparkles within the multiple sounds that visit the universe, before and during the existence of that which sounds and intones. Feeding from professional dissonance, I choose the error, the experimental, the transverse, the worn-out dress-coat, the tears of the maestro, the clown. And it hurts, an image of the pacifier poisoned by roach piss, a dirty sack full of old things kicked around like whore’s guts. So much shit, so much whipping. The well-done rare, the bare ass undone by what it has been. The rotten barbecue hoopla of our 1964 macho murderers, who defecated on our heads, and they keep on doing this, these rioters of the universe who defecate over our sweetness, over our dreams, over the cotton of our wills, over our beliefs, over play, over laughter, over alleyways, over songs and over texts on love. No, no, no. Whatever we used to treasure will still be ours, personal, authenticated and firmly recognized as Flight, as Shock, as Urgent, as food that is eaten without substance, without digestion, without reality, this kind of food that all of us, with full stomachs, will pick from our sharp teeth, deliver with a deep belch, because, at last, a freedom banquet will be served on our table, big hugs. My God!

[REPEATING “MY GOD, MY GOD” IN DIFFERENT REGISTERS, ALTERNATELY SCARED, ANGRY, MAKING FUN OF HERSELF, SUSPICIOUS, AND FINALLY, WITH FINALITY, MY GOD!!]

[SHE GOES TO THE KITCHEN, NEGOTIATING THE NARROW HALL. GOES TO THE FRIDGE, OPENS THE DOOR, LOOKS INSIDE, INDECISIVE. FROM HER MOVEMENTS, IT LOOKS AS IF SHE IS LOOKING AT HER WHOLE BODY IN THE MIRROR, ARRANGING HER CLOTHES. SUDDENLY, SHE GRABS THE CHAIR AND PLACES IT IN FRONT OF THE OPEN FRIDGE. CHANGES LOCATION OF IDENTICAL OBJECTS – i.e. THE POSITION OF TWO CARTONS OF MILK. STARES AT THE REFRIDGERATOR FOR A WHILE. SUDDENLY PICKS UP THE HANDBAG THAT IS ON THE TABLE. TAKES THE MONEY FROM INSIDE AND PUTS IT INSIDE THE FREEZER, TO FREEZE HER ASSETS. CLOSES THE DOOR, WITH HER BODY ACROSS IT TO PROTECT IT. WITH A VERY DRAMATIC AND STYLIZED MOVEMENT, SHE PICKS UP THE CHAIR AND TAKES IT TO DOWNSTAGE TO THE LIVINGROOM. DANCES WITH THE CHAIR. PLACES IT, AND WITH HER HANDS, STARTS MEASURING THE SPACE IN FRONT OF THE CHAIR. GOES TO THE STOVE, OPENS THE OVEN, PUTS HER HEAD INSIDE OF IT. REACHES UP HER HAND AS IF TURNING ON THE GAS. INSTEAD, SHE EXTRACTS A CONTAINER WITH TAKE-OUT. VERY HAPPILY, SHE RETURNS TO THE LIVING ROOM, WITH HER CONTAINER. SUDDENLY, SHE PULLS A TELEVISION SET FROM THE WING. SHE SETS IT EXACTLY WHERE SHE HAD MEASURED WITH HER HANDS. SHE SITS, GRABS HER FOOD, AND TURNS ON THE T.V. CHOREOGRAPHY OF HER REACTIONS TO THE SOUNDS (DRAMATIC CELLO MUSIC) THAT COME FROM THE T.V. INTERACTION WITH THE IMAGES WE SUPPOSE SHE IS SEEING. MANY FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND CONTORTIONS. SUDDENLY, SHE TURNS THE T.V. TOWARDS THE AUDIENCE, PUTTING HERSELF RIGHT IN FRONT OF IT, MAKING THE SAME FACES. WE SEE NOW IT’S A MIRROR, NOT A T.V. SHE PUSHES THE T.V. ACROSS IN THE STAGE VERY SLOWLY IN SUCH A WAY THAT THE AUDIENCE SEES ITSELF REFLECTED IN IT. LIGHTS UP SLIGHTLY ON THE AUDIENCE. LEAVES THE T.V. ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE STAGE AND COMES BACK WITH A POPCORN POPPER. PLACES IT ON THE FLOOR, RIGHT IN FRONT. SHE ASSUMES AN UPRIGHT AND COMPOSED POSITION AND DELIVERS THE FOLLOWING:

My possessions: A car, a diesel-fueled Deluxe Model. Another car, a gasoline-fueled BR800 Model. One commercial telephone number 815-8929. One private telephone number 211-5350. Another telephone number, an even more private one, which I don’t want to disclose. A complete stereo set: turntable, radio, amplifier and cassette recorder and player. A top asset: Motherhood. Persistence. A walkman with two small speakers. A video-camera. A tripod. A microphone. Strong, big and beautiful hands and feet. A radio alarm. One watch, not very valuable, but very dear to me and that I’ve just lost. Very good sex. Artistic mind. One hundred and thirty-two cassette tapes. Very good sex. I’ve already counted that, but it doesn’t matter. [FLIRTS WITH THE AUDIENCE.] It’s always good to repeat it. One never knows. Two hundred and eighteen CDs. Four hundred and forty seven books. Hatred of mediocrity. An electric guitar. One accordion. Obsession with uniqueness and a popcorn machine. [PICKS UP THE POPCORN MACHINE.] I’ve had this machine for eight years. I take it with me everywhere I go. On all my trips. All of them. I bought it when I went to São Paulo to work. I am from the south of Brazil. Then I went to live in London, and then to Rio de Janeiro. Then an excellent theater director invited me to create the choreography for a very good show of his in São Paulo. But he had no money to pay me. Since he was also the artistic director of a television channel he invited me to act in a soap opera, where I would be very well paid and would have a very unique role, especially written for my by the author, who was also a great playwright. And then they put me in a very comfortable hotel in São Paulo. The apartment was very good, but it had no kitchen. Well, it didn’t matter, because I don’t know how to do anything in a kitchen. The only thing I can cook is popcorn. So I bought myself this wonderful popcorn machine, self-sufficient, self-generating. I plug it in, and it cooks brilliant popcorn. And at that hotel, there were no black-outs. In that hotel there lived another actress from the same soap opera. That actress died there. All of us were informed about her death, we were told to go to her apartment. When I got there, it was too crowded, and I did not know what to do. I went to the bathroom and found some panties of her, dirty ones, she did not have time to wash them, and I thought: “What do I do?” I decided to throw them out, these panties, into the garbage. That was my little after-death intimacy with the actress. I knew. I knew I had time to tell this story while the popcorn was getting ready! I know my popcorn! [THE POPCORN IS READY. SHE DISCONNECTS THE POPCORN MACHINE.] But, in Washington, the popcorn did not pop. I was desperate. I told the whole story and the popcorn didn’t react. I know popcorn! But then I found out: In Washington, the voltage is different! I don’t understand such things. In a world like ours. So big. Everybody knows what’s going on everywhere. From North to South. And in Washington the voltage is different! [SITTING AND EATING POPCORN FROM THE BOWL] There are other things I don’t understand about this world. It’s not only a matter of voltage. And everybody knows I am taking about other injustices that are known to us. We know. We do, don’t we? WE do. SO! This talk about the general astonishment of the population... It’s not surprising...We’ve been living in chaos so long. Pressure and helplessness are the laws of the...

[PUTS DOWN THE POPCORN BOWL. SHE COVERS HER MOUTH WITH HER HANDS. SHE TAKES HER HANDS AWAY AND TRIES TO SPEAK. REPEATS THIS ACTION.].

Lov…

[COVERS HER MOUTH WITH BOTH HANDS. TRIES TO PUT BOTH HANDS IN HER MOUTH AS IF PULLING OUT THE WORDS. FEELS RELIEVED. SERENELY]

Yes, I said love. Love. [POINTS TO HER MOUTH.] It fits. Fits, see? [ENCOURAGED.] Love, love. [TURNS UPSTAGE, SAYING]

And, who survives the atomic bomb? The cockroach! Yet it succumbs to our prosaic insecticide. C’est la vie…

[LOOKING AT THE SET]

How did this set get here? I hate disposable objects. Someone please help me get this set out.

[SHE CALLS THE STAGE MANAGER BY HIS NAME. HE ENTERS FROM THE WINGS.]

Please help me get these things out of here. I have nothing else to do with this stove here. Everything I needed to do with the fridge, I did already. Please, take out everything, everything, everything while I finish my argumentation there upfront. [SHE RETURNS TO STAGE CENTER. VERY QUIETLY, THE STAGE MANAGER AND AN ASSISTANT TAKE OUT THE OBJECTS—LIGHTS LOW.

So, the first ancestor of man appeared twenty million years ago or more. That creature got separated from our ancestor’s parents, the great anthropormorphic apes and its descendants never stopped their evolution in a different direction. Therefore, more than twenty million years, man had already started to evolve. But the monkey, no! The monkey stayed there. It remained loyal to its own roots. It never betrayed its own class. Once a monkey, forever a monkey! And for more than twenty million years, the monkey has continued to watch man’s attempts to come into Being. Since the fire ball, the cooling of the planet, the appearance of vegetable and animal life, the transformation of rocks into minerals, the formation of the seas, the monkeys were there, watching. The Great Wall of China, the Tower of Babel, Noah’s Ark, the monkey was inside! The Montessori Method, Pavlov, the monkey was there! It was there, watching humans trying to calculate the distance between an asteroid to Pluto. Developing a geodesic theory. Devising a science of how to build a distillery. Engineering the recipe of a manioc cake. Heavy industry. Figuring out the treatment of wood. The investigation of the genetic components of an aquiline nose. Calculating the odds of winning the lottery. Registering in the collective memory the name of the best center-forward of the third World Cup, the monkey is there watching. The linguistic discovery of how to say, in an Ethiopian dialect: that after all, there are fools for everything and there are more fools than everything.

[TURNS BACK TO LLOK AT THE STAGE THAT IS NOW COMPLETELY EMPTY. ONLY THE POPCORN BOWL STAYS WHERE IT WAS.]

How beautiful! Now everything is possible. This is what I call a stage. Empty, like our contemporary world. Magnificent job …. [NAME OF THE ACTUAL STAGE MANAGER]. It takes so much time to build a set, and you pull it down so fast. Very good. It’s perfect like this. Come here, please. [CALLING THE STAGE MANAGER]

[STAGE MANAGER COMES BACK ONSTAGE. ACTOR CONTINUES.]

It’s nice. It’s really nice. [PAUSE. AWKWARD MOMENT.]

ACTOR: What’s your house like?

STAGE MANAGER: White.

ACTOR: My house was white too, when I was little. A wooden house. Because I don’t know if you know that I come from Irati, in the southern part of the state of Parana, and there is a lot of wood there, common pines, Brazilian pines. So the houses are made of wood. And my whole house was painted white. We used to bake pine nuts. Do you know what pine nuts are, [NAME]?

[STAGE MANAGER NODS AFFIRMATIVELY.]

ACTOR: Oh [DESPERATE.] You know, many people don’t know what pine nuts are. Once I showed them to a friend of mine from England, and she asked: “What are these little seeds?” She did not know them. [PAUSE, LOOKING AT THE STAGE.] But it looks good like that. We also used to eat jabuticaba. Do you know what jabuticaba is?

[STAGE MANAGER SHAKES HIS HEAD ‘NO.’]

ACTOR: Jabuticaba is a wonderful Brazilian fruit. You pick it straight from from the tree and eat it. It tastes of earth. It’s beautiful. You know, [NAME], these things I’m telling you are not private. I mean, they are private, but I... Do you understand. [NAME]? I don’t feel violated. I am just trying to go a little further, like that, beyond conventions, do you understand? Because I think that these conventions around language and behavior are electric fences. And I believe that, when you express yourself like this, the core, the inside, remains completely preserved, and I actually believe that the core is fed from this kind of delivery. Expressing oneself is a kind of organic manure for the inner core. [PAUSE.] But what’s your house like, [NAME]?

STAGE MANAGER: White.

ACTOR: But what is your house like?

STAGE MANAGER: White.

ACTOR [TRYING ANOTHER INTONATION.] What is your house like? [FALLS ON THE FLOOR, IN DESPERATION. STAGE MANAGER, IMPLACABLE, LOOKS AT HER AND LEAVES.]

ACTOR: [BANGING HER ARMS AND LEGS ON THE FLOOR.] I need to know what your house is like! [PAUSE. STANDS UP.] One day I will be able to communicate. [STANDING STAGE FRONT, LOOKING UP, CEREMONIOUSLY SAYS.] God is jabuticaba, and the Devil is gravity, which knocks them all down. [PAUSE. DOUBTS, BUT CONCLUDES.] God is jabuticaba, and the Devil is the gravity that knocks them all down. Love. What nonsense. [PAUSE. CONFIRMS.] God is jabuticaba, and the Devil is the gravity that knocks them all down. What nonsense. [THE BRAZILIAN NATIONAL ANTHEM, PLAYED ONLY ON THE PIANO. THE ACTOR GESTURES REACHING UP TOWARDS THE FRUIT, AND THE FALLING OF THE FRUIT. THE GESTURES SUGGEST THAT WE MUST REACH FOR THE FRUIT BUT NOT ACCEPT THE FALL. SHE MAKES A LAST EFFORT, AND HAPPILY REACHES AN IMAGINARY FRUIT. SHE MANAGES TO PUT IT IN HER MOUTH. THE GESTURE, FOR A MOMENT, LOOKS LIKE A KISS. SHE LEAVES THE STAGE, CLOSING THE IMAGINARY DOOR SHE OPENED AT THE BEGINNING OF THE PLAY. THE EXIT COINCIDES WITH THE LAST NOTE OF THE NATIONAL ANTHEM.]

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