Un Homme Pressé – Extrait 59
surprising O, with no N, to the French M, to the L, to the key, waving to Jay, to the I, leaving the H, to the gee, the blossoming F, and its He, to what did you say, ok lets see, ride the Bi. *** Henri was consumed by this evil inside worm, common disease of our modern times, he kept giving advices. Good he should, given he is now directing a play. Still, he missed there some guidance, somebody who could help him to blossom along the inside thoughts he had and put in frame a full realistic map taking its root in the present. Listening, he was. Filtering what came to him, it was even more. 22 The morning after Yo lo busco, te lo envió. What? Burp. So, Thats life, thats a game???? Henri will see through the very first performance he would set up. They were now quite close to the premiere. They did set up a performance with friends and mates, a normal rehearsal planned to check if everything was ok Act I went smoothly, an unsettled breeze going through the mind of each of the audience. Something strange, certainly trying to tie it to some experiences in the past. But as soon as they were drawn in the game, they witnessed the actor leaving the scene as dead. Shivers through the audience, or at least a slight disbelief with regards to the realism of this story. Seeing this passive audience, attentive but passive, and once again, not a negative criticism in all extent. Henri left the booth he was stuck in and joined the scene midway between Scene 2 and Scene 3. Ladies, Gentlemen, thanks for coming, I, and the team, really appreciate. It s a dream coming true and I am really thankful for you dedicating the time to some rubbish I wrote, feeling quite inspired. One clap, before he continued So now, yes weve seen Romain dead walking to the end of the game, and I would like to try one thing, might or might not be in the final performance, I would like you, yes you all, to contribute. Silence in the crowd, dubious of what will be next, or they just didnt care. It pointed them with a finger, not this one: YOU are my inspiration. In fact, I am a thief, a ghost writer of the lives I am witnessing all around, looking to bring one side on paper So who wants to go on stage? You know the rules, you know the game, time to feel the flow. Silence Come on One voice, more a whisper, started to build a phrase somewhere in the audience. I feel unpowered to do so. I am deeply congested through an iceberg of emotions that stops me from moving, realistically and physically moving. The play bends us too soon into these humanistic question. Why didnt you continue to relax the atmosphere and set that event in scene 4? Good, anybody else, express yourself, I give you the dices. Game officer, come here and please give me your cards. Two spectators stood up and came to the scene. . Another look, different eyes, and a setting fitting the scene in unsettlement of the whole situation. Scene three, four and five went as, well he couldnt remember, he was deep in writing again some other thoughts, still everything grasped by what he hoped was surprises. One of the spectators on scene was especially good at picturing emotions and made the whole audience shiver. She couldnt stand with the flow scene 1 and 2 set up, and she challenged any single moves the play was. Well that was it. Did he intend to put a play on scene and to play a board game directly with the audience? Maybe time to find more cards rather than focusing on putting words in mouth of others. Back home, he put the draft onto the net. A pretty catchy one. He didnt know more, neither was he aware of whom to send it to, just a general burp that might make the buzz on the electronic net of the utterly sensible internet. Both from the online and the offline community, feedbacks started
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🔖 Labels : Un Homme Pressé, Un Homme Pressé – Extrait 59
