The Other Shore (34 page)

Oh that, that’s just meaningless kiddy talk, I feel…with you around, I feel like I still haven’t grown up. Do you think I’m childish too?

Oh, I’d love to have a daughter like you!

So that I’d be your model and you could paint me?

Have you ever heard of a daughter modelling for her father?

I haven’t, but that’s why I want to do it. People always want to do things no one else has done before.

To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind having a father like you.

Is that so? Then I’d have a daughter to model for me all the time.

Anne, Daniel

Please light the candles.

Gladly.

Do be careful with your hands. Don’t get them burned.

How seriously can my hands get burned by a candle?

You can’t be too careful with fire.

That’s true. You always sit by candlelight?

I like candlelight, especially when I’m engaged in a casual conversation with my guests.

It creates a mood, a warm and intimate mood, but if you’re sitting alone by candlelight, wouldn’t it make you feel even more lonely?

I enjoy being alone, he’s the one who’s afraid of loneliness, he invites all the guests.

The older you get, the more afraid you are of being alone, isn’t that right?

Age has nothing to do with it.

Is he afraid of being forgotten?

Not quite, his paintings are in the museums already.

Then what’s he afraid of?

He’s afraid of boredom.

Bernard

The slightly open lips, so full, so moist, and so clearly defined. Those tender shadows at the corners of her mouth, the beautiful outlines of her neck and her shoulders, ah, and the two little cherries, so daintily puffed, you can’t help but caress them with your eyes, to make her moan softly and feel your touch all over her body. You also admire her delicate hands, her fine and nimble fingers. A wicked little nymph she is.

She loves to flaunt her fine and pearly white teeth, and when she breathes in and wiggles the sides of her nose, or when she takes in her saliva, the veins on her neck will start quivering, pulsating up and down. You like the downy creases on her fair and glowing skin, you like her silky body hair, you like her laughter. Deep inside you there’s a feeling of happiness, a happiness which is more than bodily lust. Of course you’d like to have a daughter like her. You want to have a vivacious femme fatale like her in front of you, behind you, and all around you, then you could look at her and admire her to your heart’s content. But after all you’re also a man, and you want to be more than her father.

Daniel, Anne

What else is there to talk about?

She says she’s listening.

You say you’d rather hear her talk.

She says she has nothing left to talk about.

You say why doesn’t she talk about the book she’s going to write.

She says she only thinks about writing, but she hasn’t written anything yet. Since you’ve written so many books, why don’t you talk about them.

You say since your books have been written already, all that’s left to do is to read them, there’s no need to talk about them.

Then talk about those you still haven’t written, or those still in the process of writing.

You say the problem is you don’t know what you’re going to write. Furthermore, what more is there to write about?

Cecile, Bernard

What are you looking at?

Nothing.

You’re looking at me, aren’t you?

You’re looking at her, your daughter.

Then go ahead and look, she won’t stop you.

Of course she’s not your daughter, that’s why it’s possible for you to keep on ogling her at will.

Are you still painting?

Of course, of course. Of course you know that painting is just an excuse to keep her by your side, and she also enjoys being admired and looked at, doesn’t she?

Do you want me to pose this way, or that way?

Any way will do. A wild kitten she is, of course she can show off all the wares in her possession and in any which way she wants.

Which do you think is better?

Play with her, make her throw all her caution to the winds, make her reveal her womanhood in all its grandeur.

Anne, Daniel

Then talk about yourself. A writer is infinitely more interesting than his work.

Not necessarily, I dare say.

Are all your books fictional? Created from your imagination?

Well, there’s got to be real feelings in a book of course. That’s something every woman is capable of, as long as she expresses her personal and deeply felt feelings in her, she could, to say the least, produce an interesting book.

Why just women?

If a book’s only about men, nobody would want to read it.

Including yourself?

Yes.

In that case your books must be only about women, if I’m not mistaken.

Women and men, or to put it in another way, men and women.

Men and women, women and men, they’re people all the same.

Because people have to be either men or women, their feelings are entirely different.

What other differences are there besides sex?

Of course there are, for instance, you and me.

Let’s not talk about you and me.

I’m only interested in people who are alive.

But I’m dead already.

Really?

Almost.

Bernard, Cecile

A door…

What did you say?

Nothing. Once it’s opened…

What’s opened?

You say you’re talking about a door…

May I ask what are you painting?

Oh yes, a door, once it’s opened…

I see.

Total darkness, so dark that you can’t see things clearly.

Shall we turn on all the lights?

There’s no need. Don’t attempt to do anything. See that gleam of light? Where does it come from?

You’re asking me?

No. It’s spreading, it’s slowly saturating the place, an illusion, a shadow…

Are you talking about your painting?

You say you’re talking to yourself.

I understand it now.

You say you don’t need to understand, just see.

Right.

Anne

They didn’t even bother to close the door. If she closed the door now, they’d certainly know that she’s been here. And if she left it open she wouldn’t think it’s proper either, because at this hour of the night anything that happens in there would definitely be heard outside.

She’s doing this for them, at least, for him, she must close the door quietly.

Maybe he left the door ajar on purpose when he left a crack open like that. But of course she wouldn’t exactly barge in there right now, it’d be so embarrassing for everybody. Why should she do anything? Let them turn off the light in the corridor and just walked away quietly.

Bernard, Cecile

A shadowy image in the middle of flickering candlelight, it’s the back of a woman. You quietly approach her, hoping that she’ll turn around, but she lowers her head lazily and covers her face with her hands. So you softly put your hands on her shoulders. She turns sideways and tilts her head to face you. Oh, no, an old woman’s dry and crumbling face! The candlestick falls onto the ground…Once more you find yourself sinking into darkness, you try to pick up the candlestick, you grope around but you can only find some broken pieces…You want to see if this is a dream, so you clutch the broken glass pieces in your hands, squeeze them as hard as you can to see if you’ll bleed, and the blood keeps oozing out…Your feet feel cold, as if you’re not wearing any trousers, you bend down to touch your foot…It’s not real! It’s made of plastic!

No kidding?

What’s so funny?

She says she didn’t laugh. Are you not real? She’s just asking.

You say you’re talking about an illusion you had.

And what about her? Is she an illusion as well? Is she not real?

What a charming little nymph.

That’s right, everybody is charmed.

And charming everybody.

Will a cat walk away from a fish?…How come you’ve stopped painting?

Anne

She doesn’t know if she loves him or not.

She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s jealous.

She’s not his wife, so there’s no need to interfere. They haven’t signed a contract or anything, so there are no restrictions. A little tramp, and she offers herself to him. His days are numbered, might as well let him do whatever his heart desires.

The bottom line is she’s not a Madam. It’s a matter between the two of them, the giver is willing and the taker is just as willing, the feeling is mutual, what’s that got to do with her?

But she can’t understand why she’s feeling a bit uneasy, as if she’s done something wrong. She only saw that the corridor lights were still on, so she came out and turned them off, that’s all there is to it, isn’t it?

Daniel, Anne

Sorry, you say you’re looking for some matches. Your lighter, you can’t remember where you put it.

She says her books are in the sitting room, she usually reads for a while before sleeping.

Of course, books can make people sleepy.

It has to be an interesting book, or she wouldn’t read it in bed.

You say you usually sleep late, and before you sleep you’ve got to smoke a cigarette, you’ve had this bad habit for years.

She says if she can’t sleep she’d drink a small glass of whisky, you want one?

You know that it’s only a game, but it’s the kind of game which excites you no end.

She acts as if everything was so natural, she doesn’t think there’s anything wrong in just wearing a lingerie.

Nothing happens by chance in this world, there’s got to be a cause, a motivation. Of course, you can say that you’re looking for matches or something, but you know, one always finds a way to say whatever he wants to say.

She’s not particularly interested in him, no man can steal her heart any more, she knew perfectly well what’d happen even before she drank that glass of whiskey, but she still drank it anyway.

That’s right, a woman tired of living still has to live on.

A man will never give up the chance to seduce a woman.

You can’t be sure who’s seducing whom, but you never change, you just want to have some fun.

She says, stay away from me, don’t!

Daniel

You can’t go forward

　and you can’t go back

Go left

　go right

　　you still fall into the trap

Therefore you

　only think of enjoying yourself

　　the decadent pleasure of the moment

Afterwards

　you still can’t be sure

　　if there is

　　　an afterwards…

So there’s no need to pretend any more

　to act the part

　　it’ll be more true

　　　more relaxing

No more disciples or messengers

　your body

　　is still quite real

Men

　are destined

　　not to lead their lives

　　　in any other way

A joke

　a game of sex

　　just like gambling

　　　you consume yourself

　　　　or gamble yourself away

When thinking stops

　listen

　　Mozart

　　　is he also comforted?

Quartet No. 2

Anne, Cecile

How are you?

Very well, thank you. It’s been a long time since I had a weekend like this. It’s so comfortable living in the country.

You’ve chosen a good time to come here, it wouldn’t be as nice if it were in the winter.

Can’t you light a fire or something? I just adore sitting in front of the fireplace.

The studio is so big, it wouldn’t get much warmer lighting a fire.

I like space, I feel good whenever I step into a spacious room, no matter what I do.

What are you doing now?

I’m a model, haven’t you noticed? He hasn’t finished his painting yet.

I mean what do you do for a living?

Anything, as long as it’s a job. But what I’d like best is to have my own home, then I could stay there and do nothing. You know, just like you.

You have everything now, haven’t you? You and your friend?

Him? He’s a writer alright, but he can’t support me, I’m not as lucky as you are, I’ve got to work.

What kind of work do you do?

Whatever I can lay my hands on, it’s hard to say, it isn’t easy to find meaningful work.

Do you model as well?

Oh no, it’s my first time, it’s quite fun, don’t you think?

Don’t you think it’s too much trouble? When you’re posing you have to remain motionless for a long time, you can’t even move one bit.

No, he let me move around, sometimes I could even walk to where he was and watch him paint.

That’s true, all his models are very happy working with him.

He’s got many models, yeah?

Of course you won’t be the last, he changes them frequently, he paints all kinds of women.

Does he paint you often?

He likes young girls.

But I think mature women are more feminine.

That’s exactly what’s wrong with old men, the older they get the more they like to be with young girls, as long they don’t make it difficult for them.

Me? I’m easy. I like older men, they’re so gentle, and they look after you.

It’s good if you feel so easy towards the whole thing…In fact why don’t you go outside and take a walk in the woods? You don’t have to lock yourself up in the studio all day, you know. You’re here to enjoy yourself, if you’d come here to work, he’d even have given you some money for it.

I didn’t come here for the money! I like to watch him paint, to see how I’d look on canvas, how I’m transformed into a woman who looks like me, and yet a woman I hardly know—

Be careful, don’t get him too excited.

I know—

No, you don’t, he has high blood pressure.

Excuse me, I’m going out to take a walk in the woods.

Anne, Bernard

How’s it going?

Fine. I had a good night’s sleep.

I mean your work, you’re happy with it?