WAIT FOR ME ( A scene )
Bar. Dawn. Anywhere. Everywhere.
WOMAN: Where was I?
WOMAN: No, that’s not right.
MAN: Yes. You were going on about essence, outside, being, existence. Poetry.
MAN: Sounded like poetry.
MAN: You promised to read to me
WOMAN: “Promised”? You can’t be serious.
MAN: You promised and yes, I’m serious
WOMAN: And you feel entitled, that it?
MAN: It’s only fair
WOMAN: Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words.
MAN: That’s nice.
WOMAN: I don’t remember the rest. I mean, I used to, but -
MAN: I see
WOMAN: You do? ( beat ) You “see the real me”?
MAN: I don’t understand you sometimes.
WOMAN: I don’t understand myself
MAN: Where were you?
MAN: I waited
MAN: I waited for you.
WOMAN: You should stop
MAN: I stopped.
MAN: You took what doesn’t belong to you
MAN: You don’t feel anything
WOMAN: I feel everything.
MAN: Why did you do it?
MAN: All’s fair in love and war?
WOMAN: All’s fair in love and –
MAN: I love you
WOMAN: You don’t, you don’t love me
WOMAN: I like shiny things, round things, things I can touch, that I can bite into. I am particularly fond of orbs.
MAN: So. You like things.
WOMAN: Funny. That’s funny. You’re funny.
MAN: You surprise me
WOMAN: I do?
MAN: I’d never imagine. I can’t imagine. You and Barthes, you being philosophical, the “meaning of life”.
WOMAN: What do you imagine?
MAN: I imagine you in a forest. Midnight. Alive. Brushing your finger tip against a blank page…
WOMAN: I can’t imagine you at all
MAN: You -
WOMAN: Don’t touch me
MAN: That’s cruel
WOMAN: Life is cruel. Life is unfair. Life is
MAN: Life is …
WOMAN: How do you imagine us, here, now, in this space?
MAN: I don’t know.
WOMAN: Where are we?
MAN: I don’t know.
WOMAN: You don’t know.
MAN: No. But I imagine you do
WOMAN: When we imagine, we are free.
MAN: Who said that?
WOMAN: Our words are what sets us apart from the primitive. Language is freedom.
MAN: Before the loss, before the lost, before the time, before the dawn, before the feeling
WOMAN: Before God
MAN: I don’t believe in God
WOMAN: You don’t believe in anything.
MAN: I believe
MAN: I believe in human decency
WOMAN: What does that even mean?
MAN: Right thing. That people will always do the right thing.
WOMAN: Delusion – it does wonders for your complexion.
MAN: Thank you
WOMAN: I believe in words. That’s all. That’s all we have.
MAN: D’you hear that?
WOMAN: I don’t hear anything
MAN: Respect. What about respect? I believe in respect.
WOMAN: You think you’re simply a lowly subject of the universe, that when you look up into the sky, you feel what everyone else feels, you feel infinitely insignificant, minute, trapped within yourself, you are what everyone else is. You are them, they are you.
WOMAN: It’s shit. Everything you’ve said, what you think about the world. That we stand united. That we are all the same. We’re not.
MAN: You’re wrong
WOMAN: And you’re right I suppose?
MAN: What a question
WOMAN: What question?
WOMAN: I’d rather just watch the sunrise
Jingan Young, Playwright, Hong Kong & London