by Xingjian Gao
Girl:
She says she’s afraid of silence, she can’t stand people not talking when they’re face to face with each other, she finds that suffocating. She’s much more afraid of silence than of death, death is more bearable than not talking to each other like this.
Man:
You say you, you’re only talking to yourself.
Girl:
She says she, she’s only left with her memories.
Man:
You say you, the only way you can get a little bit of comfort is by talking to yourself.
Girl:
She says she, the only way she can invoke a little bit of fantasy is through her memories.
Man:
You say you, you can feel somewhat relaxed only when you’re talking to yourself.
Girl:
She says she, she can see herself clearly only when she’s fantasizing.
Man:
You say it’s not that you don’t want to get away from your self, but you’re always talking to yourself, in that way the self will never go away and it’ll never stop haunting you.
Girl:
She says only when she indulges herself in fantasies can she empty herself of her worries, be carefree and recall her past feelings. Even though they may have been scary feelings, they still manage to touch her heart.
(Man stands up slowly and walks in front of man’s head.)
Man:
You have to get rid of the baggage in your mind completely, let bygones be bygones, get away from it all, and get it off your back for ever.
Girl:
She’s falling asleep…It’s best to sleep deeply and never wake up, but she just can’t sleep well, she’s suffering from anxieties all the time…
Man:
(Circles around the head and inspects it.) You’ve got to find a way to get out of here!
Girl:
Dreams, one after another, intermittent and disjointed, there’s no beginning, there’s no end…
Man:
(Lifts his head.) It doesn’t matter where you’re going, when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go!
Girl:
Her head is swooning and she’s unsteady on her feet, she has no idea where she is…
Man:
You’re groping around, you’re trying hard to find a way out, you’re afraid that you might bump into something…
Girl:
A wall, it is collapsing in silence, right in front of her eyes…
Man:
Finally you manage to find a door, it must be a door, it is tightly shut…
Girl:
That high wall, the one which has been standing erect in front of her, suddenly collapses just like that, without a sound, nobody has touched it…
Man:
You must open the door, even if it’s only a little crack, as long as you can…squeeze through it sideways…
Girl:
She actually sees a patch of sky, misty and grey…just like fog…
Man:
You carefully walk into a dark and shady long corridor…it’s curved and bent…there’s no end…
Girl:
A big patch of misty grey sky, it’s dark and light at the same time, like it’s neither morning nor evening…
Man:
(Lowers his head.) Strange, where did this top hat come from? You don’t know, should you or shouldn’t you pick it up?
Girl:
Then she clearly hears a squeaking sound.
Man:
But you’re afraid it might be a trap—(Lifts his head.)
Girl:
She knows that a knife is cutting—
Man:
You lift it up—(Bends down to pick up the top hat.)
Girl:
Cutting open a naked body—
Man:
Oh, a nest of ants! (Immediately retreats.)
Girl:
She sees it now, there’s a crowd surrounding a woman, they’re cutting open her stomach to dig out her internal organs.
Man:
(Inspecting the top hat in his hand.) It looks like your own hat, you haven’t worn it for a long time, how could you have forgotten about it?
Girl:
They’re butchering her, they’re dissecting and discussing at the same time. There’s also a woman mixed in among them, can’t tell how old she is.
Man:
(Puts on the hat.) It actually fits. Only your own hat would fit this well.
Girl:
She lifts her head and looks around. A pair of hollow eye sockets! She takes to her feet at once!
Man:
(Pulls down the brim of the hat.) You can’t go without a hat, a man without a hat is like a man without clothes.
Girl:
(She bends down until her head touches the ground.) Something’s flowing down her thigh, she knows it may be blood, she feels awfully embarrassed.
Man:
(Somewhat comforted, he raises his voice slightly.) You walk down the pitch-dark corridor, at the same time you’re groping for a way, you know what you should avoid, as if you’ve passed through the same corridor once, twice, and even three times before.
Girl:
She’s actually not afraid of bleeding, just that she’s afraid of the sight of blood. Once when she was a small girl she went fishing with the grown-ups, she saw them toss a big fish onto the shore, they’d just caught that fish, it was all shiny and glittering, and then they started to cut it open right there on a piece of rock, their fingers became sticky with blood, and the fish was still struggling and jerking up and down. She felt rather sorry for that fish, it hadn’t died and yet it couldn’t live any longer.
Man:
(Wobbles backward rather purposely.) You know it very well, there is no end, but still you have to keep on going, turning wherever there’s a turn. There’s no end, you can’t stop because you have to go on, even though you know nothing will ever come of it.
Girl:
She really wants to cry, but she can’t, she has no more tears. She knows her heart is hardened and dried, a barren stretch of desolation, just like those naked hills behind the old house she lived in when she was a child. She only went there once, she was alone, after that she didn’t dare to go any more, the naked branches in the bushes were shaking, shaking with the wailing wind among those hills.
Man:
(Finally he cannot stand steadily.) You don’t know where you should go, should you stop, or perhaps should you turn and go back?
Girl:
(Gets up, at a loss.) She doesn’t know how it happened, but somehow she’s in this railway station, it’s all deserted and empty, there’re no signs on the platform. She wants to know where the next train is going, but she can’t find anyone to ask. She feels a bit scared, from here to there in this mammoth platform, she can only hear the hollow tapping of her own footsteps.
(Man walks behind her, staring at her back.
She walks away at once and then suddenly stops.
He takes two steps forward and follows her.)
Girl:
(Closes her eyes and holds her breath.) She knows there’s someone behind her, she can feel that he’s staring at her, her back is cold, she is waiting for that someone to raise the knife, she has no strength to lift her feet—(Panting.)
(Man extends his hands towards her, and she runs away as if she is possessed.
Man drops his hands.)
Girl:
(Running and panting for breath.) She says she’s terrified, but then she’s not really terrified, she knows she’s only terrified of her memories of terror.
(Man droops his head.)
Girl:
Nobody can save her except herself, but she feels too weak even to think of saving herself. (Dejected.)
(Man stares at his feet.
Girl looks at him at a distance.)
Girl:
At last she sees someone in front of her, a man she’s long been waiting for, a man who can perhap
s save her! She really wants to see his face clearly, but it’s just a blur, she can’t quite make it out no matter how hard she tries. (Walks around him and looks at him closely.) My God, it’s only a shadow!
(Disappointed, she retreats step by step, head down.)
Man:
(Slowly lifts his head and marches forward.) Shit. (Crouches down to tie the shoelace on his right shoe, gets up, and starts to put forward his right foot.) Shit! (Crouches down to tie the shoelace on his left shoe, gets up, and starts to put forward his left foot.) Shit! (Crouches down to tie right shoelace again, gets up, and puts forward his right foot.) Fucking shi—(Turns to look at left foot, takes back right foot, crouches down to tie left shoelace again, gets up, and starts to lift right foot.) Mother fucking shit! (Lifts his right foot in the air to tie shoelace. Then with his right foot touching the ground, he raises the tip of his left foot.) Mother fucking sh—(Frustrated, he takes off both shoes, throws them away and sits on the ground trying to figure out what to do next.)
Girl:
(Looks at herself all over.) She has no idea, is she also a shadow herself? (Looks at the shadow under her feet and turns around again and again on the same spot.) Is the shadow herself? (Becoming dizzy.) Or is she no more than the shadow of this shadow? (Closes her eyes.) Who is the real she?
(Monk enters dancing. He is holding a horsetail whisk to dust himself. He picks up an imaginary leaf from his shoulder and blows on it, making a whistling sound. Then he closes his eyes and chants: “Good men and women, good knowledge, purify your nature, purify your heart, Amitabha Buddha!” Monk exits.
Afterwards Man and Girl’s behaviour becomes increasingly abnormal and strange.)
Man:
(Talking to himself.) Behind that door, perhaps there is nothing.
Girl:
(Asking herself.) No memories?
Man:
(Ruminating.) That door, behind that door, perhaps there is really nothing, do you believe that?
Girl:
No fantasies?
Man That’s right, there’s nothing behind that door, you thought there was something, but there’s nothing.
Girl:
And no dreams either?
Man:
(To audience.) That door, behind that door, there’s nothing.
Girl:
She can’t remember anything.
Man:
(To himself.) There’s absolutely nothing behind that door. (Giggles.)
Girl:
(To audience.) What happened?
Man:
(Softly, his back facing Girl.) That door, behind that door, there is nothing.
Girl:
(Softly.) And no memories.
Man:
Absolutely, absolutely.
Girl:
And no fantasies.
Man:
Absolutely, absolutely. (Nods his head.)
Girl:
And no dreams either.
Man:
Absolutely, absolutely! (Becoming contemptuous, his head to one side.)
Girl:
(More softly.) Can’t say.
Man:
(Very softly.) Why?
Girl:
(With certainty.) Can’t say.
Man:
Why can’t you say it?
Girl:
(Almost whispering.) Can’t say!
(Man is speechless.
Monk enters. Sound of running water.
Monk hastens forward, kneels on one knee, bends down and clasps his hands as if to cup the water. He dips his little finger in the water to wash his ears. After cleaning both ears, he rises and listens respectfully. His mouth opens slowly and reveals a Buddha-like smile. He exits quietly.)
Girl:
She can’t believe that she actually said it, she said something that can’t be said, but she said it, clearly this can’t be said but why did she have to say it? It ought not to be said it can’t be said but she said it regardless, it’s her misfortune, it’s her disaster, it’s her sin.
Man:
(Gets up, looks around and speaks loudly.) And no door! (Facing audience.) The door? Where’s the door? The door? The door? The door…(Lowers his head.) If you think you see it then you see it, if you think there’s something then there’s something, but what if you think there isn’t? The door? Of course it’s not there. (Laughs to himself.) That door of yours—no doubt it’s something out of nothing, you’re just being nosy, you just want to find a way out. What if you can’t find a way out? Isn’t that just as good? (Laughs loudly.)
Girl (On her knees, murmuring.) Her sin, well, if she feels guilty then she’s guilty. She’s afraid of this and afraid of that, afraid of this, afraid of that, afraid, afraid, afraid, but she’s not afraid of her, not afraid of herself. But what happens if she’s also afraid of herself? Then wouldn’t she be not afraid?
Man:
A way out, a way out, since there’s no way out, why go and look for it? You only want to prove you’re not trapped, or look at it another way, you’re looking just to prove that you’re trapped? What if you were to stop looking? Then you’re not trapped, and you aren’t not trapped? Either you’re trapped or you’re not trapped, either you’re not trapped or you aren’t not trapped, isn’t it all your own doing?
Girl:
If she feels she’s not guilty, what’s there to be afraid of? She’s afraid because she feels she’s guilty, she feels guilty because she’s afraid. And if she’s not afraid then she no longer—(Pauses.) That’s even more horrifying than Silent Extinction…
Man:
If you weren’t you, there wouldn’t be the need to prove anything, would it? But if you weren’t you, then who are you?
Girl:
A silkworm, which gets enmeshed in its own cocoon.
Man:
Do you care who you are? Why can’t you put down this you of yours?
Girl:
Left with only the remnants of a broken wish?
Man:
You keep on babbling only to show that you are you, that you’re not like other people.
Girl:
A wisp of silk at large.
Man:
You are you because you’re still talking, that’s all there is to it.
Girl:
Wind.
Man:
Actually you don’t know what you’re talking about, you talk only because you want to. (Shakes his head.)
Girl:
Hollow.
Man:
You can’t understand the meaning of your own words, you’re just the slave of language, but you can’t stop yourself from talking endlessly—(Shakes his head.)
Girl:
Tin soldier.
Man:
You can’t free yourself from language’s entanglement, just like a spider—(Shakes his head.) No, you’re not a spider, but you’re still a spider. (Shakes his head.)
Girl:
Candle.
Man:
You’re not free to move, being trapped in the web of language of your own making—(Shakes his head.)
Girl:
Sa, send, da, la, wood—
Man:
Drunk city, mourning, stone statue—(Listening to himself attentively.) Why mourn a stone statue? Is the whole city drunk, or is everyone drunk all over the city? Or is someone or something mourning the idol with drunkenness? Stones are heartless, do humans have a heart? Is the city drunk? Does the stone know?
Girl:
Trap, jump, show, mouth, cut—
Man:
Hut—sin—grief—chime—bell. (Tilting his head to think.) Who’s actually grieving for who? Is this the hut owner’s death or the instruments’pain? Do the instruments know their suffering? If they don’t, how can they mourn? Where is the mourner? How does one know? This one, that one, what are they mourning? What is there to mourn? It’s all utter nonsense!
(Monk enters sweeping the floor. He is holding a big broom, his back to the audience. He sto
ps when he comes to front stage and sees the two heads.
The lights on stage gradually darken, except for the light shining on the heads, which becomes brighter. Monk turns to observe Man and Girl.
Man and Girl’s movements become very slow.)
Girl:
(Murmuring.) Win—ter…
Man:
(Observing her.) Aha!
Girl:
Makes…
Man:
What?
Girl:
Tea—pot…
Man:
(Sarcastically.) Winter makes teapot?
Girl:
Teapot…
Man:
Teapot what?
Girl:
Makes…
Man:
Makes what?
Girl:
Winter…
Man:
Teapot makes winter?
Girl:
Makes…
Man:
And then—?
Girl:
Teapot…
Man:
And then makes teapot?
Girl:
It is…
Man:
It is what? Speak!
Girl:
It is not…
Man:
It is it is not?
Girl:
Is…
Man:
Is it is it not—is it winter makes teapot or teapot makes winter? (Getting angry.) Or is it it is not winter makes teapot or teapot makes winter? Or it is it is not is it not winter makes teapot or is it it is teapot makes winter? Or is it winter makes teapot makes winter? Or it is it is not is it winter makes teapot and then makes winter? Speak, speak, speak, go on!
(Monk ignores them, sweeping more earnestly.
Man and Girl move and speak faster with the quickening rhythm of the broom. Their bodies become more contorted, like two strange crawling reptiles.)
Girl:
Crack…
Man:
What crack?
Girl:
A crack…
Man:
What kind of a crack?
Girl:
A crack line…
Man:
What crack line?
Girl: