(Dance
#10)
Performance.
Instructions to the dancer are in square brackets and are not to be spoken. The
dancer may also respond to what the voice says.]
Voice:
The door lets in noises.
The room is full of static.
There is nothing but loud near-vacuum.
[The
dancer appears, having run forward startlingly, stopped and then started again;
all done not quite jerkily, but certainly with little flow in between each
separable movement.]
Voice:
I have a troubling sense of light.
My lips are dry and catch together, or so it feels. I am alive,
but with pain; and I am alone and in pain.
[The
dancer flaps its arms, lifting itself a very little from the ground; but it
does not fly.]
Voice:
Who am I? he asks. He pushes the door shut.
[The
dancer lifts its wings – its arms – and stretches them out momentarily.
The
dancer preens itself.]
Voice:
The world spreads out before him. He will no longer read his
notes. He does not wish to read his notes.
[The
dancer looks about itself with quick jabs of sight, the whole body poised
beneath the obsessing and observing head.]
Voice:
There are other choices. Some offer escape. She looks at the time.
All she can do is wait.
[The
dancer stumbles backwards and falls. Its four legs go into the air, a small
crowd of them. All of the dancer's weight is on its back. The dancer is
squinting with ferocity.]
Voice:
His thoughts are not pleasant thought.
[The
dancer wipes its beak on a protrusion, possibly a branch.
Things
vibrate a while, after the dancer leaves them.]
Voice:
He is aware how high above the centre of the world he is. It makes
him forgetful.
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