The Other Shore (31 page)

Sleepwalker:

You say, is this the kind of freedom she’s after?

Prostitute:

She asks you, what’s the meaning of freedom?

Sleepwalker:

You say, was freedom the reason why she didn’t try to escape? Why did she put up with it? Why didn’t she cry for help?

Prostitute:

She asks where could she have escaped to?

Sleepwalker:

To where she’s no longer under anybody’s control! Come, run away with you!

Prostitute:

Does freedom mean running away with you?

Sleepwalker:

Freedom means not being under anybody’s control!

Prostitute:

What’s the difference, she asks, between being under your control and under other people’s control?

Sleepwalker:

You say at least you wouldn’t force her to do things! You can’t stand it, seeing her being tortured like this—

Prostitute:

She says she doesn’t need anybody’s pity!

Sleepwalker:

You say you really don’t understand—

Prostitute:

She tells you to get the hell out of here!

(
The door gradually closes, leaving a small crack.

Sleepwalker is puzzled and picks up his undershirt
.

A bald Thug appears in the dark. He is dressed in a suit but without his wind breaker. He takes Prostitute’s hands and dances with her, paying no attention to Ruffian
.

Ruffian retreats into darkness
.

Sleepwalker turns around and puts on his undershirt.
)

Prostitute:

Poor guy.

Thug:

Who?

Prostitute:

The guy over there.

Thug:

(
Takes a glance at Sleepwalker.
) Oh, the guy carrying the suitcase.

Prostitute:

What’s in the suitcase? It shouldn’t be secret.

Thug:

It’s a head.

Prostitute:

A what?

Thug:

You know, that gadget’s called thinking.

Prostitute:

Oh, how disgusting. Why put it inside a suitcase?

Thug:

Otherwise it’d be too hot to handle. That small thing, it tends to roll all over the place.

Prostitute:

Can’t he just dump it somewhere?

Thug:

My darling, where’s he gonna dump it, huh? Tell me, now.

Prostitute:

Never mind, just don’t try to dump this little darling here.

Thug:

Oh no, how can that be? She’s right here, safe and sound. (
Embraces her tightly.
)

Sleepwalker:

(
Walks further away.
) You can’t understand the relationship between you and her, whether she sells and other people buy, whether people consume her or she consumes people, whether she consumes herself, or whether people consume her and consume themselves. But what has all this got to do with you? Maybe you also desire her because people consume her and then consume themselves? Or you’re angry or lustful because she sells sex or you’re tormented or satisfied because she is abused or she abuses herself and these are all but masochism. And all of these things have nothing to do with her, or do they?

Prostitute:

He’s still there.

Thug:

Are you scared of him or something?

Prostitute:

No, but he’s a real pest.

Thug:

Let’s get rid of him then.

Prostitute:

Don’t. Let him be. (
Holding him tight.
) Are you happy?

Thug:

Yeah, I’m happy.

Prostitute:

If you’re happy, I’m happy.

Thug:

That’s swell, darling.

(
Thug lifts up her hands and leads her to turn around in circles.
)

Thug:

He says she’s a cunning little kitten.

Prostitute:

She says no, a lazy kitten, lazy and greedy. (
Giggles.
)

(
Thug lets her turn again and again, and then with a swing of his hand, Prostitute disappears into the dark.
)

Sleepwalker:

This is a boring world. You think, but only because you’re masochistic. You’re equally as boring, and you know it very well, you know you’re unsalvageable!

(
Walks away.
) You say you don’t like strawberries, they’re too mild and too tasteless. You’d rather watch other people eating them, especially a young woman: one by one she puts the voluptuous and red strawberries into her mouth, a mouth which is even redder and more voluptuous than the strawberries themselves. For you, watching is infinitely more relishing than eating.

(
Speaks loudly.
) You see a bat falling down—(
Extends his hands and opens his palms to reveal a bat.
) Yes, a bat! You haven’t seen any in this city, and no centipedes and no swallows either, just cats and dogs. Even rats are very rare. The streets are all covered with dog shit!

(
Thug stares coldly at Sleepwalker.
)

Sleepwalker:

You ask him what does he want?

Thug:

He says you’re his slave.

Sleepwalker:

You say you’re not for hire.

Thug:

He says you’re a worm.

Sleepwalker:

You say go take a hike! (
Throws the bat at him.
)

Thug:

He says you’re a steer driven by other people.

Sleepwalker:

(
Sleepwalker picks up the suitcase.
) You say he can’t bulldoze you any more.

Thug:

(
Thug reveals a smile from the corner of his mouth.
) He says you’re his dog.

Sleepwalker:

(
Picks up the suitcase.
) You say he’s already dead.

Thug:

(
With disdain.
) He says your fate’s still in his hands.

Sleepwalker:

(
Lifts the suitcase up high.
) You say he can’t do anything to you, he can’t control you any more!

Thug:

(
Makes a weird hand gesture.
) He says you’ve already done all that he’s asked you to.

(
Sleepwalker lifts the suitcase and hurls it at him. Thug calmly picks up the suitcase, without saying a word. At the same time the door, which has been left open with a crack, is closed tightly.

The moonlight disappears completely. Thug vanishes
.

There is only a faint and greyish white light on stage.
)

Sleepwalker:

You say you have no compassion, and you have no pity.

When you see others suffer, you feel happy instead.

You say you want to destroy everything,

You say you know that you are vicious,

You can kill without turning a hair.

You say you find evil more exciting than good,

You might not be any less evil in comparison with other people.

You say it’s only because you don’t have the supreme power,

Otherwise, the world would have been destroyed a long time ago.

You say you want to scream and cry out loud—

But you have lost your voice.

You say all men are like worms,

They squirm all over the world,

Why? You have no idea why,

Just like the quiet sea bed,

Where massacres and devouring carnage

Are carried out in utter silence.

Fire is spreading all over…(
Looks at his feet.
)

(
The streetlight gradually brightens to a dark red colour.
)

Sleepwalker:

A sun,

It has light but no heat,

Falls on a dried up tree. (
Lifts his head to look at the lamppost.
)

Time has already stopped

Why do you still have to run away?

Jesus Christ, a lonely traveller,

Nobody can save anyone. (
Stops and stands under the lamppost.
)

You’re not the saviour, you’re not a disciple,

You’re sick and tired of the game of death.

(
Prostitute enters, barefoot and carrying the suitcase. She sits down and crosses her legs. With the suitcase between them, she opens the suitcase and starts to remove her make-up, paying no attention to what is around her.
)

Sleepwalker:

You’ve already said enough.

Prostitute:

(
She rubs her face with a cotton ball, using the opened suitcase top as a mirror.
) She asks you what’s the meaning of enough?

Sleepwalker:

You say enough is enough, enough is a word.

Prostitute:

She asks, (
Wipes away her eye shadow.
) what is a word?

Sleepwalker:

A word is a word. Originally it has no meaning, but it could be given countless meanings. It’s all up to you, depending on how you want to explain it. But in the final analysis, a word is still a word, it has no meaning. Take for instance black, white, eat, make love, saviour, suffering, and baloney, no matter how you mix these words, using combination as the principle or process, or dismantle them and mess them up again before regrouping them once more, the resulting eloquence is still only a repetition of nonsense.

Prostitute:

Then she asks, (
Closes left eye.
) what you’ve just said, is it all nonsense? (
Wipes away left eye shadow.
)

Sleepwalker:

Whether nonsense or not, it’s not important. The im- portant thing is that you’re still saying them. You are you only because you can still say the words.

Prostitute:

She asks, how about you? (
Closes right eye.
) Are you also a word? (
Wipes away right eye shadow.
)

Sleepwalker:

Maybe, maybe not.

Prostitute:

(
Pours some lotion on her hand.
) Maybe what? (
Closes both eyes.
) Maybe not what? (
Wipes her face.
)

Sleepwalker:

Not anything!

Prostitute:

It’s over. (
Her hand lets go the cotton ball, which she uses to take off her make-up.
)

Sleepwalker:

What’s over?

Prostitute:

Over is over. (
Takes a tissue to wipe her hands.
)

(
Prostitute lifts her head. Only a bright red mouth is visible on her face
.

Sleepwalker stares
.

From the suitcase Prostitute takes out a man’s head which bears an extreme likeness to Sleepwalker. She holds it with both hands and inspects it. After a while, she lets go of it carefully and the head starts to roll on the floor. She gets up nonchalantly. The streetlights are off, and Prostitute disappears
.

Sleepwalker approaches the head, bends over to scrutinize it and pokes at it with his foot
.

Tramp enters with a wine bottle in his hand.
)

Tramp:

It’s almost daybreak, why are you still dawdling out here?

Sleepwalker:

Oh! (
Quickly stamps on the head with his foot and squashes it. Looks back.
) Sorry. You ask him is the head still there?

Tramp:

(
With disdain
.) Head? Sooner or later everybody’s got to lose his head. There’s always a time to lose one’s head, and there isn’t a head which can’t be lost.

Sleepwalker:

That’s right. But you’re asking is your head still there?

Tramp:

(
Raises his eyebrows.
) You want to drink some more?

Sleepwalker:

(
Takes the bottle and immediately takes a gulp. Laughs.
) You say you can’t be sure whether it’s you or your head that’s drinking the stuff.

Tramp:

It’s all the same. (
Raises the bottle to check out the wine inside.
) Whatever we drank, it’s gotta be wine anyway. (
Throws away the bottle.
)

(
Both laugh heartily and loudly.
)

Sleepwalker:

It’s all the woman’s fault. If that whore hadn’t flashed her legs, wearing only a pair of nylon pantyhose in this freezing cold night, and if she hadn’t walked around coming on to people, you’d have had a good night’s sleep. You say you’re really sorry.

Tramp:

Women. They never change.

Sleepwalker:

No mistake about it! If there’s got to be a mistake, you say, it’s that you got involved in her stupid business, something you really shouldn’t have done in the first place. But she said there was a hole in her stockings—

(
Tramp gives a guffaw.
)

Sleepwalker:

You say your mistake was to take up her conversation!

(
Tramp gives another guffaw.
)

Sleepwalker:

You say you were wrong to have asked her questions.