In the play, there are two scenes I'm in. After exiting the stage in a style all my own, (I heard a man laugh particularly loudly at that move tonight), I walk quietly over to one of the staircases leading up to a room on the set and sit silently until I hear my next cue. There are other places to sit but I've come to really like that one for some reason. There is a blue light about a yard away from me softly glowing with enough illumination to see by, but most of the area is in shadow. With my fur stole draped across my lap, I sit in deep thought for those minutes, remembering videos of me as a child, finding the commonality between that little girl full of smiles and mischievous laughter and the woman I am now walking in high heels and wearing layers of makeup. Taking out the compact in my purse, (I use it in the second scene), I look at my face in the blue light. My eyes and mouth are dark, the skin light blue and the veil and pearls enriching the air of a lady. Grinning and squinting my eyes, I can still see the face of that one year old, enthusiastically rocking the chair back and forth, or that quiet, penetrating but amused look so commonly found upon me at any age. I think about who I am, that inner core of me, the one meant to write and express those things words can hardly hope to say but try to say anyway.
Who knew such a whore could have such thoughts sitting in the dark?
365-09 #43Labels: 365-09 Challenge, Death of a Salesman