drama

I play no role anymore. My words have nothing more to say to me. My
thoughts suck the blood of images. My drama is cancelled. Behind me the scenery is
being taken down. By people who are not interested in my drama, for people, to whom it
doesnt matter. It doesnt matter to me either. Im not playing along anymore.

My drama, if it could yet take place, would happen in the Time of the Rebellion. The Rebellion begins as an
urban promenade. Against the traffic regulations during working hours. The streets belong to the pedestrians.

My place, if my drama ever took place, would be at both sides of then front, between the fronts, over them.

/ Exit men. Ophelia remains on the stage, motionless in the
white packaging.