Tuesday, May 31, 2005



("THE BIRDSONG SANG BACK" is a tiny little bird of a story that opens its beak and tweets, ”Are you my salvation ? Are you my worm ?

This story is loosely based on a piece of art by Teodoru Badiu. His surreal landscapes can be found in the current edition of scene360

Enjoy…)



THE BIRDSONG SANG BACK


“There is no purpose to this immaculately crafted sentence which stretches out through a line of time and ripples of space. There is no meaning at the core of what I’m saying, motivating my words along to some great destination. I simply speak,” he says, muffled beneath layers of costume.

“I simply speak,” echo other actors on the stage.

In row 8, seat 12, a woman looks down at her program, re-reading the basics of what’s happening in front of her. “All thirty-two performers for the show you’re about to see have been dressed in two costumes. The inner costume is a suit of yellow bird feathers, complete with exotic tail feathers, legs, feet and a beak. Over this costume the performers will wear masks of human faces and oversized cloths.”

The woman looks up from this at the performers on the stage. She counts them. Yup, 32.

Around her, everyone sits with displeasure, adjusting themselves in the poses they’ve taken. Questions, like worms, wriggle through their core.

A cell phone set to a chirpy setting goes off somewhere in the audience and the sound of laughter being suppressed cannot be heard.

The chirping continues.

The playwright, hiding in the wings, lowers his face into the palms of his hands.

Ruined.

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