//// Woman: Imogen Heath, Man: Sam Icklow
A Woman and a Man. The Man carries a
short stool and a laptop. The Woman kneels down on her hands and knees.
She bends her head down and stares at the ground.
The Man approaches the Woman, sits
down on the stool and places the laptop on the her back, then opens it.
He starts writing on it, using the woman as a desk.
MAN: A description of the world is
the world. What we are inhibits what we want to be. What we want to be
inhabits what we are.
The Man pauses, looks around for a
moment, and then down at the woman’s face. He pulls her hair back
and stares at her for a moment. Then he starts writing again.
MAN: I become what I want to be through my description of the world.
WOMAN: What is the difference between your description of the world and the world?
MAN: My description of the world contains truths that the world does not.
WOMAN: Really?
MAN Really.
WOMAN: What is the difference between an artificial flower and a real flower?
MAN: Real flowers fade, wilt,
collapse, decay and die. Nothing natural lasts forever but the beauty
of artifice is that it creates something that can.
WOMAN: What truth about the world do artificial flowers contain that real flowers don’t?
MAN: There is no truth in the world, only in descriptions of the world.
WOMAN: Do you really believe that
the world is meaningless, that life has no meaning unless you describe
it, alter it, lie about it so that it contains a truth?
MAN: In a word…Yes.
WOMAN: But without me, without THE
world, you would have nothing to describe. You exploit me, you exploit
the world, to create your truth.
(angry) You replace Truth with exploited, distorted truths.
The Woman straightens up and the laptop crashes to the ground. Then she stands up and walks away.
The Man looks around for a moment,
then picks up the laptop. He stares at the cracked screen, his fingers
poised above the keyboard. He tries to write but can’t. He looks
around again for a moment.
MAN: A description of the world is the world.
Pause
MAN: It is.
Pause
MAN: Isn’t it?
END
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