Beside a half drowned stone
stands an actor
in the middle of a dark stage
in a faint delicious light
scavenging on the delusional applause of an absent audience
but with an unusual stillness
breathing silent heavy air
like an empty canvas
A wax painted wall, burns alone,
glows in white and black
and its reflection in the actor's eyes
asks questions.
How do you expect an empty canvas
to speak,
to have colors?
How do you start on the path of unknown destiny?
What do you see in the folds of the curtain
and the pits on the actor's face?
the moisture under the trembling hands
vaporizes
hands move
and the mighty muscles of a face
crouch on each other
How much can you know
an empty canvas?
the proud director watches with a illegible smile
the actor doesn't know
what he wants
and what he wants.
Are these two, two different questions?
What do I want to say ?
What do I have to say ?
Is there a difference ?
heartbeats are still waiting to be allowed to happen
and time does not want to move.
Should I start ?
Where?
